Friday, 2 July 2010
08:01:02 PM (GMT)
My poem. Mine. Don't steal it.
She is the child of the fairy palace.
She is lost from us, lost in her dreams.
Her mother hands her the pills.
She will never be free.
Lost in her dream land, lost from us all.
There is no telling when she will fall.
One day she finds herself awake.
Danger is in the air with each breath she takes.
She finds herself alone, lost in her own home.
She feels her way through the dark, untill she feels someting sharp.
She closes her hand around a shard of broken glass, and smiles as she presses it to
She knows the consequence of bleeding, and she stabs deeper and deeper, but with out
Hands grab her arms and lift her to her feet.
She tries to run but cannot escape.
They take her to a place she has learned to hate.
In a room of white light she sits on the floor.
Humming to herself as she rocks back and forth.
The people come, the people go.
The people will never know.
Seven years later, and she still lives in hell.
Numb with meds, all she see's is red, but she doesn't really bleed. But she feels the
pain when she looks at the stains, and she wonders,
What has happened to me?
She's in the bedroom.
A gun to her head.
They'll find her in the morning,
when she's already dead.
They never listened to the words that she said.
So now they're gonna pay for what they threw away.
They reasure themselves, it's better this way.
She's stays on the meds, she stay's out of our their way.
Then one day, they wake up to find, they have been left behind.
Their little girl has been freed by a knife.
She leaves one hell for another.
The people come and the people go, but the people will never know.
She is the child of the fairy palace, lost in her dreams. She comes back down to
earth, but no one hears her screams.
They find her on the bedroom floor, a puddle of blood spilled across the floor. The
people cry, poor little girl, but she has never wanted anything more.