bleedingangel84 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bleedingangel84) wrote2012-03-29 06:35 pm
bleedingangel84) wrote2012-03-29 06:35 pm
Entry tags:
Lines and other disconnected things...
A/N: Yet another poem from the depths of my grey mood. Sorry for posting so much, but I think my reservoir of negative emotion was past being full. Hopefully the writing will help empty it somewhat.
Whirling about,
she spins like a top,
smoke rising from the friction burn
she leaves behind.
Her soul's on fire,
but the ashes are in her
eyes-how can you not see
that she's burned to death inside?
She goes along-
robotic-
automatic-
plastic-
static-
smiling mouth-
eyes that cry-
Screaming for release
from this non-life-
she bleeds through her
black shirts.
You pat her head-
you pray-
"Thank God she's safe."
There is no protection
from herself.
Whirling about,
she spins like a top,
smoke rising from the friction burn
she leaves behind.
Her soul's on fire,
but the ashes are in her
eyes-how can you not see
that she's burned to death inside?
She goes along-
robotic-
automatic-
plastic-
static-
smiling mouth-
eyes that cry-
Screaming for release
from this non-life-
she bleeds through her
black shirts.
You pat her head-
you pray-
"Thank God she's safe."
There is no protection
from herself.