Bruised shins and grazed knees,
Stings from things like nettles and bees;
Genuinely happy smiles and laughter, true,
Sometimes dishonest tears, but real ones too.
Sunburns and freckle kisses,
No hits, they were all near misses.
Sore legs and blistered toes,
Chipped nail polish and running nose.
Hazy eyes, glazed over with tears,
Bigger shadows, demons and fears.
Hiding behind a mask of laughter,
Even though it was death she was after.
Bruised brain, thoughts gone wild,
This pain was nowhere near mild.
Happy grimaces upon her lips,
Bruises and cuts around her hips.
Scarred wrists, thighs to match,
She couldn't just stick to one patch.
A look of disgust at herself in the mirror,
There was no hope, not even a glimmer.
Eerie silence, and stillness took over,
Buttercups and a four-leaf clover.
Fingers untwichting, feet gone cold,
Unaging child that will never grow old.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
