In a time so long ago
There lived a girl
By the name of Octavia
She was shy and mute
Not so much mute,
As just did not like to speak
Her parents were worried
She did well in school
But
Her social skills
p
l
u
m
m
e
t
e
d
She combed her long black hair at night
Quiet as a mouse
In the small, dark little house
She rested
Her parents had enough
She could not function in society
They locked her up
And told her to stay
She did not mind
After all, there were books
And a comb for her long black hair
To comb at night
Every day, she did just that
The town she lived in
f orgot a bou t h e r
Bit by bit
She became unnerved
"Octavia, Octavia,"
She heard the voices say
"Why don't you come out and play?"
She shook her head, and read her book.
The voices stopped, then returned the next day.
Nothing else could be heard
Then, footsteps
Could someone be there for her?
No
They weren't
Eventually, the voices grew forms
Shadows of children, smiling and laughing
Octavia was wary and bitter
She did not like them
She combed her hair
One of them took the comb and ran
Octavia cried
Her hair would no longer be beautiful
Her beauty would
p
l
u
m
m
e
t
She paced throughout the room, reading her books
They became boring to her
Reading the same things, over and over again
Her bitterness grew stronger
She saw an old book, torn from time
And tears formed in her eyes
Weeping, she ripped a page out
And then another
And another
and another
another
more, more
m o re
All her books were gone
Nothing to do
Except listen to the voices
She knew that they were messing with her
She did not know how to stop them
They held her hand tight
And told her,
"Play, play, don't be scared"
And then, she stopped being scared
Her parents, regret in their hearts
Unlocked the door, and found nothing
Except a girl with unkempt hair
And a trail of ripped pages
She looked at them, and a smirk grew across her face
"Don't you see? I play with the voices, and the voices play with me."
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
In a time so long ago
There lived a girl
By the name of Octavia
She was shy and mute
Not so much mute,
As just did not like to speak
Her parents were worried
She did well in school
But
Her social skills
p
l
u
m
m
e
t
e
d
She combed her long black hair at night
Quiet as a mouse
In the small, dark little house
She rested
Her parents had enough
She could not function in society
They locked her up
And told her to stay
She did not mind
After all, there were books
And a comb for her long black hair
To comb at night
Every day, she did just that
The town she lived in
f orgot a bou t h e r
Bit by bit
She became unnerved
"Octavia, Octavia,"
She heard the voices say
"Why don't you come out and play?"
She shook her head, and read her book.
The voices stopped, then returned the next day.
Nothing else could be heard
Then, footsteps
Could someone be there for her?
No
They weren't
Eventually, the voices grew forms
Shadows of children, smiling and laughing
Octavia was wary and bitter
She did not like them
She combed her hair
One of them took the comb and ran
Octavia cried
Her hair would no longer be beautiful
Her beauty would
p
l
u
m
m
e
t
She paced throughout the room, reading her books
They became boring to her
Reading the same things, over and over again
Her bitterness grew stronger
She saw an old book, torn from time
And tears formed in her eyes
Weeping, she ripped a page out
And then another
And another
and another
another
more, more
m o re
All her books were gone
Nothing to do
Except listen to the voices
She knew that they were messing with her
She did not know how to stop them
They held her hand tight
And told her,
"Play, play, don't be scared"
And then, she stopped being scared
Her parents, regret in their hearts
Unlocked the door, and found nothing
Except a girl with unkempt hair
And a trail of ripped pages
She looked at them, and a smirk grew across her face
"Don't you see? I play with the voices, and the voices play with me."
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