"jenay" poems
She's not gone. She's still right here.
In your smile, in your laugh,
in that awkward way you stand sometimes.
In that urge to break out into a song or dance.
In the way the wind blows your hair toward the mountains, making you gaze over them in amazement, knowing that is where you belong.
She is in the sudden bursts of artistic inspiration.
She is in every flower that opens, every star that sparkles, and every time you think of the word love. She is there, smiling with you, laughing with you, dancing with you.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
She stumbles crookedly, confused by the pure hatred in their eyes,
She cries, afraid of the blood slowly seeping from sliced palms and soles.
She reaches out, only to be scorned by those who are to love her,
She covers her ears, as rage-filled words, echoes incessantly, cutting deeper into the wounds.
She hides in her own little dark corner, as she feels the pain their powers bring.
Aren't villains the only ones that
They should hurt?
Does that make her one then?
She falls deeper, deeper down the rabbit-hole - deeper into the toxicity that is her life,
She scars harder; becoming more wretched, surrendering to the demons that haunt her.
She's disregarded by the powerful; she's scorned by the weak.
Its s e m p i t e r n a l.
"You cant become the hero."
"YOU CANT BE A HERO."
She knows this, known it for so long now.
No; everyone says she cant be the hero -
Why not be the villain instead?
By: Jenay Long
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 6:13 PM UTC