Mockingjay

Monday, October 28, 2013

The Broken Flower

Words that were craved the most,
Touch that disintegrated my skin,
Burning stings from unforgiving tears,
A tongue whose words could never win.

A hand never raised to the youngling,
Yet words that tore and split at her core,
A bruised and beaten soul lay in pieces,
Yet never knowing why or what for.

Caged in the corner of her mind,
She burns the city in fury and agony,
Watching as the flames engulfed her,
A fading hope to finally be free.

She prayed to a God she knew didn't exist,
Asking Him to turn her tears to roses,
She quivered as she stood in the rain,
Forced to stand outside for unknown causes. 

Fear and oblivion were her only friends,
Isolation and silence, her companions;
Trembling when voices were raised,
Familiarity of a home devoid of compassion. 

Eyes that looked upon a world so cruel,
Lips that trembled at the crack of a whip,
Ears that bled from inhuman words,
Wounds so deep but never dripped.










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