A pale face in the moonlight
Eyes filled with dull starlight
A dreary trance in the moon's beam
Or so it would seem

Her long, silky brown hair
Flowing in the night breeze without a care
Bringing about scents of lavender fields
This yields
Memories of wonderful things
Which once gave her wings
Of which are now broken
Words unspoken

Still as a statue
Colors faded of their hue
Her eyes occasionally blink
Those soft cheeks no longer rosy and pink
The slow blink of those earthy eyes
Internalizing the agonizing cries

Said eyes are clouded
Poor mind crowded
Holding a burden only she could bear
How could this be fair?
Withholding her memories
Internal; singing broken melodies

Soft pale skin
Arms rather thin
Glowing softly with the moon's kiss
Things are amiss
Making her figure wraithlike
Some things look alike
If she were such, a beauty she'd be;

Not a blemish on her face
Some hairs out of place
But perfectly so
A simple flow
Skin as soft as silk
Her dress white as milk
Soft, elegant, flowing white
Almost bright
In the crisp nights breeze

Simple, is the dress,
Going to her ankles, not to stress
Over tripping on the smooth fabric
But still there's something wrong - almost sick
The sleeves just past her forearm
There is no cause for alarm

Then, a single tear begins to form
Against her cold cheeks it's almost warm
It rolls down her cheek
She did not once speak
It stopped at her chin
Before leaving her skin
Gently dropping to the ground
Making hardly a sound
As it crashed, splashing tiny beads
At her feet, which then leads
To a great deal more
Down they pour
Her face breaks emotion
As she crumbles to the ground
Not to be found

Seated, legs to the side
No longer can she hide
What she feels inside
Just going for the ride
With the rivers of tears
Letting go of her fears
From all those years
As it all appears
Finally coming forth after all this time
After such a long climb
This isn't a crime
Enough with the rhyme
It's a battle-cry
Showing how much she did try
How much she had to lie
How much she wanted to curl up and die
But not then, not now
She'll make it through somehow
She swore a vow
To be herself
Not to let that sit on a shelf
Sick and tired of being a delp
She will stand up for herself

Just as she always should
When she thought she never could
It's time to shine
That light of thine
That broadcasts your signal
Fire your words like bullets in a pistol.

- Jay M
March 5th, 2020