Scarred Steps

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Glass heels glide over the cold marble steps

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Glass heels glide over the cold marble steps

Blood smears from the deafening footsteps

They scratch them with a screeching halt

And instantly forget about their broken faults


Their whispers travel down skinty legs, ingraining the stone

And such whispers turn to thundering stomps when they are alone

Catching all the moments of murmurs they can during the dances

Haunting waltzes that simply exist for piercing stolen glances


A few fall on the pool of red, adding their own through the peeling wounds

Ivory veils of ignorance that always come unbound

Under indigo clouds, they attempt to clean the stains off the satin

Burying it beneath wildflowers with the scent still latching onto their skin


I'd rather be the obsidian heading down the dingy dungeons

A gloomy stairway rather than someone's crescent delusion


I'd rather cover myself with the darkest soot and the grimiest mud

Than ever drown again under their melancholic floods


Both of us hide beneath gashed scars

Yours gleaming black peppered with dust

Mine shaved off to mask their bootless lust


Both of us sit silent under loud steps

Yours sturdy under sweaty bare feet

Mine hurting from crystal shoes of deceit


Oh, now they come to scrub the dried blood again

For the hundredth time making it into a smooth terrain


Mists of envy and admiration intertwine for you

Yet, who am I but another dreamer trying to escape the truth?


-Grisha. S 

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