13/05/2016
She peels the darkness from her skin,
Ripping off its deadly grip, she whispers,
"I'm done. I've had enough."
She cracks a smile.
"And you're no longer welcome in."
She peers through her eyelashes,
Amazed at the new life before her.
She no longer fears change.
She is no longer afraid.
And still, she thinks,
"How ironic it must seem,
That this time a year ago,
I was collapsing at my seams."
But a life of misery is not one
She wanted to live.
Seventeen years she had wasted.
She knew something had to give.
So she dried her tears,
And reassembled her heart,
Thinking as she sewed herself together,
"This is where my life finally starts."
YOU ARE READING
Charcoal Skies
Poetry❝IF I CANNOT WRITE OF MY WOES AND I CANNOT WRITE TO SAVE THE WORLD, THEN WHAT, DARE I ASK, IS THE POINT OF WRITING AT ALL?❞ A collection of thoughts, ramblings, and poems detailing the composite materials of a war-torn mind. Not recommended for thos...
