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8M Aug 2019
Have you seen a young girl,
By the name of Octavia?
Intertwined with shadows,
Of playful voices of madness

Do you remember,
When everyone forgot her?
And she was left to wilt
Like a flower in the snow

Do you remember,
When she stopped being scared?
As the madness and hysteria became no different
In the eyes of lost Octavia

Do you remember,
The eldritch one who's Octavia?
That unsettling childishness of the maddened girl
Lingered in her parents' hearts

Have you seen a young girl,
By the name of Octavia?
She's running the corner store, smiling so sweetly
With a torn book in her hand...

and a sharp blade
A continuation of a previous poem. Read that one to understand.
8M Dec 2018
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

Her social skills


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?


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


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


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."
A bit dark.

— The End —