The waltz begins with a polite curtsy from me and a bow from him
He takes my hand
His hand is cold and lonely
And as it closes around mine,
I can feel his sad soul stretching around mines
As his other cold and lonely hand rests on my back
And the dance begins
From an onlooker's point of view, it's graceful
Our steps seem to fall perfectly with the other's
And our connection to the music and each other seems flawless
But both he and I know the truth
I feel him dragging me along
It's as if I have no choice in the matter
And as his cold, lifeless hand moves mine to his chest
I am not shocked to find not heartbeat there
To feel nothing but a hollow empty chest
It has been like that for a while
And he thinks that since his chest is empty
That he is entitled to empty the chests of others
To rip out their hearts and destroy them until they wish from him to grant them the mercy of finally taking them away
I am not the first to dance this dance with him
I've seen it happen before
I've seen people loose themselves in this dance
I've seen them fall like a tree during a thunderstorm
I've seen them beg for his mercy
Like a slave begs his master for freedom
And as he reaches his cold, lonely hand around my head
His hand rests on my the back of my head and pulls me closer to him
His dry, dead lips brush against my ear
And he tells me what he tells all of his partners
"You won't win this fight"
He leads me across the floor
And that's part of the problem
He's leading me around
He's controlling me
So when I take one step not in time of the music
And rip my hands from his cold and lonely ones
I feel my freedom rush into me
As he falls back into the deep, dark place he came from
He'll be back for me
But I had escaped him
He is no longer controlling me
✖️✖️✖️
a/n: now that it's October, I have decided that it is time for a new poetry book with eveN WORST POETRY THAN THE FIRST ONE YAYYYY
((if you haven't read my first poetry book it's called Word Vomit and it's long and annoying))
ok bye thank you for reading you're wonderful
love,
Mary
Xxx
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the Dead
Randomdon't you think that aliens would make fun of us if they found out that we killed people over things like sexuality, race, or gender?