The Sandman comes to her around seven,
she prays for dreams sweet as heaven.

But sometimes the dreams,
awaken her with screams.

Monster do not always come in closets,
monster sometimes seem quite modest.

Awakened in a cold sweat,
frightened near death.

Nightmares do not always come in dreams,
nightmares do not always make you scream.

ALesiach © 09/19/2014

A porcelain doll sweet and shy,
lives in a world of mistreatment and lies.
In the shadows and darkness he does come in,
leaving a doll broken, shattered within.

Tiny hands reach out, comfort they seek.
Only to be told, lies they speak.
Trembling and emotionally scarred,
a doll's heart is broken and flawed.

ALesiach © 10/05/2014

She sits in silence upon the bed
hands folded neatly, but with drooping head.
Her gossamer chords, silvery and fair
float gently through the winter's evening air.

Slowly his music fills her hollow form
as she waits for him to strum her gossamer chords.
A dancing silhouette, bending to his will
spiraling, swirling, or capriciously still.

His fingers dance across those gossamer chords
as she silently floats across the floor.
Tirelessly she performs the night through
never once missing her cue.

As his haunting music begins to fade
and he slowly turns away.
She slumps back against the bed
hands folded neatly, but with drooping head.

ALesiach © 02/16/2015

There is an ancient tune,
as old as the wandering moon.
It floats on gentle breeze,
of a woman weeping.

It moans softly through the trees
and haunts you when you dream.
Her tears are like a gentle stream,
of lost lullabies she will never sing.

It whispers faintly in the rain
emptiness of arms that never fade.
Death and loss is all that pervade
on her nightly serenade.


ALesiach © 01/01/2015

Deep in the night,
she emerges from the mist.
Clinging to a rose of white,
longing for the one that is missed.

She stands on a rocky peak,
the rose's thorns have dug in deep.
The wind howls and shrieks,
but her eyes have no more tears to weep.

Watching the moonlight dance with the sea,
before crashing on the rocks below.
Once more together they shall be,
as off the cliff she does go.

ALesiach © 10/17/2014

Beyond this door
and in this house.
If walls could speak,
these would weep.

There is no laughter,
there is no love,
There is only tears
and a young girl's fears.

She escapes to her room
and tries to be quiet.
If there is no sound,
he will not come around.

The moon watches
in the window near.
As she cowers in bed
and screams 'NO' in her head.

On the verge of madness,
she watches the **** turn.
His sweat fills the air,
all she can do is stare.

He draws her near,
more poison for her mind.
He drags her to hell
with no one to tell.

ALesiach © 01/01/2015

In this garden
the roses have all withered
the sparrows no longer twitter
the day is dark and bitter

In this garden
a rusty gate swings in the wind
a faded pinwheel gently spins
a sad little girl swings within

In this garden
the trees are brown and rotten
the youthful dreams are forgotten
the little tears fall often

In this garden
the land lays in dark repose
the stream no longer flows
the little eyes bare pain untold

In this garden
once there was beauty here
once laughter flowed sweet and clear
once there was vigilance near

ALesiach © 05/22/2015