Her mind was closed, a flesh prison cell
For years there, she served
All of those years undeserved
Blind to freedom ringing like a fresh liberty bell
She was not guilty of any crime
All the same, she was locked away
Left a prisoner in disarray
The laws of her mind gave her time
Alone & distraught gave her monstrous thoughts
Instead of helped, she was hurt
Then those thoughts happened more often than not
Soon people forgot, & that hit her soft spot
This caused her disconcert
She was lost, but her memory was not.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
She always seemed to like winter
Its cold bitter air keeping everyone at bay
giving them a reason to stay away
letting her enjoy the pain
the sting of the freezing wind
it sometimes equates
to the knife that she draws across her skin
something her Christian parents call a sin
but that's not even where her problems begin
slicing and sawing her precious wrists
the bloods seeps out and kisses her again, and again
Some days she wishes she didn't exist
she started taking risks
not caring if she missed
her veins
she only wanted the pain
it gave her something to gain
as opposed to the shame,
that she receives from
leaving sombre scenes,
indifferently at ease
She was like a slave
to her maze of a mind
until one of those days
he came along
and she caved in his arms
he waived away
any harm in her way
taking away any source of pain
he came before,
she wasted away
and was lost to the grave
now, whenever in pain,
she calls out his name
and he'll dash through the cold rain
then take her away
to a special place where
she'll be cherished.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
Her laugh, her smile
it made me wait awhile
for that wild child with a tender touch
She expelled the dark in that wintry park
and that, my dear, sparked the start
of my now warmed heart
But I'm still waiting
For you to play your part.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
He walked alone
down the lonely road
of which nobody had known
She, at a spry 23,
tried to forget all those bad memories which
gave her those bad dreams
He was tortured every night
She ran from every fright
but they both might do it tonight
A melancholy suicide
to rid the painful thoughts inside
One a pill of cyanide,
the other a bullet in his side
They both died
She went quick
He slowly limped, and
wished he knew why
She did it so soon
His legs finally folded
and as he fell,
he stole a glimpse of her cold eyes
and now he knows why
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC