Saturday, August 15, 2009

Like Whoa

Alas, another oldie!

A pale figure stands before me
Her sunken, dark eyes blankly stare back at me,
Hauntingly empty, like those of a porcelain doll
Far beyond the blank caves
Is a glimmer of something
Pain, loss, and fear burned through
Seering my chest and pulling me deeper
Deeper into her murky reverie
I tear my eyes from hers
Only to find a thin, taut line
Carved into her delicate face
Where her mouth should be
The pursed lips speak volumes
Of all she's lost
Her face is a ghost, a shadow
Of the gentle, trusting beauty
That once graced her features
My eyes travel down her body
It's halting movements and unsure stature
Tell me all about who has hurt her
Her frame acts as a cage, imprisoning her
She's there, hidden deep inside
The dark recesses of her own body
Her cries for help were long ago silenced
For no one listened
She stands before me
Broken, lost, ashamed
Full of unimaginable sorrow
I can no longer bear to look
To know she's too far gone
To know I cannot help her
Nor does she trust anyone to help her
So I turn
And walk away from the mirror

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