Monday, 5 September 2011


Softly, she holds her hands to her face.
Quietly, she takes off the mask she hates.
Why must he torture her so?
Why must he make her feel so low?
Questions that spin around in your head.
To him, you are nothing better than dead.
Silently her mind talks to itself.
Trying to comfort with books on the shelf.
And the answer appears in the form of a dream,
Her hate boils inside her body lean.
Suddenly a girl, she clasps the Queen's hand,
I'll lead you, she whispers, to a new land.
It's quite a sight, much to behold,
And when you live here your courage won't fold.
Gently she leads the Queen through a gate,
And somehow she feels like she is quite late.
She looks down instinctively and sees her dress,
Marvelous and beautiful as her sunday best.
Now the girl's touch slowly fades,
You look back at the life that you had just made.
Your eyes fill with tears,
She chased away your fears,
And comfort embraces your heart,
Drives hate away in a cart.
There's a glitter,
An insignificant shimmer,
And all that's left of the little girl
Is a faint afterimage of a perfect world.


  1. *is comforted*

    *looks at the magnificent shimmer of the girl and knows it will shine brighter as the girl grows*

    *hugs the girl forever*

    Another wonderful poem I will treasure my dear friend! Thank you!