She lay there:
So peaceful and tranquil it seemed
nothing would ever trouble her.
Her parents gazed fondly at their
perfect little girl
As the tears escaped their eyes,
Falling endlessly.
By her fifth birthday,
She had said her first word,
Developed a taste for chocolate,
Seen some of the big, wide world,
And recognised the thrill of laughing
uncontrollably.
At seven,
She made a new friend,
Fell out with another,
Read some new books,
And was always fascinated by her
geography lessons.
When she turned eleven,
She joined a dance class,
Went to France with school,
Baked some cupcakes,
And begged her mum to let her try on her
high heels.
Thirteen years of her life gone,
And she had her first kiss,
Argued with her parents,
Handed in a homework late,
And wished she was prettier, taller, thinner,
cleverer.
She was sixteen
When she had seen too much of the big, wide world,
And knew reality in all its cruel coldness.
She wore lots of makeup
And a fake smile to mask her
feelings.
It worked.
Until
She whispered,
“Take me to Wonderland.”
And shot herself in the head.
She lay there:
So peaceful and tranquil it seemed
nothing would ever trouble her.
Her parents gazed fondly at their
perfect little girl
As the tears escaped their eyes,
Falling endlessly.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
She lay there:
So peaceful and tranquil it seemed
nothing would ever trouble her.
Her parents gazed fondly at their
perfect little girl
As the tears escaped their eyes,
Falling endlessly.
By her fifth birthday,
She had said her first word,
Developed a taste for chocolate,
Seen some of the big, wide world,
And recognised the thrill of laughing
uncontrollably.
At seven,
She made a new friend,
Fell out with another,
Read some new books,
And was always fascinated by her
geography lessons.
When she turned eleven,
She joined a dance class,
Went to France with school,
Baked some cupcakes,
And begged her mum to let her try on her
high heels.
Thirteen years of her life gone,
And she had her first kiss,
Argued with her parents,
Handed in a homework late,
And wished she was prettier, taller, thinner,
cleverer.
She was sixteen
When she had seen too much of the big, wide world,
And knew reality in all its cruel coldness.
She wore lots of makeup
And a fake smile to mask her
feelings.
It worked.
Until
She whispered,
“Take me to Wonderland.”
And shot herself in the head.
She lay there:
So peaceful and tranquil it seemed
nothing would ever trouble her.
Her parents gazed fondly at their
perfect little girl
As the tears escaped their eyes,
Falling endlessly.
