Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2010
She mopes around, thinking obscure things.
And clings to what seem to be her puppet strings.
She stops to stare, she stops to wonder.
She starts to cry, it starts to thunder.
The rain pours down onto her pain.
Can they see the difference? The tears and rain?
She cries for help. There’s no one around.
She gives out completely, crumbles to the ground.
Her hands shake, her eyes - red.
Her body shivers, her mind - dead.
She throws her head back and screams to the sky,
“HOW CAN YOU JUST SIT THERE TO WATCH ME DIE?”
She trembles there, shattered to pieces.
Then the clouds clear and the rain ceases.
Hushed suddenly, she stumbles to stand.
Her eyes fixed on a bright horizon of land.
She opens her arms in the face of dawn.
She closes her eyes, and then she is gone.
The only thing left are a few tangled strings.
You’ll never know what the chill morning brings.
Written by
Victoria Koski
842
     Ellyn k Thaiden, Luca Molnar and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems