Just Poems

A Long, Drawn-out Question

No matter who tells you who came from the light,

Remember the daughter of heartache who came from the night.

A tear held in hand and her promises in mind,

Her cowardice holds her to this world that tight.

Or perhaps it's her selflessness, some say that doesn't exist,
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That locks her in this prison, this soul-eating mist.

What they say hurts, she hides with a silence,

But maybe one day she'll snap, and finally rest.

For few know or care that the songs that she sings,

Are her last serenade, a good-night's kiss that she brings.

And if she were to fade, would anyone care?

Would somebody cry, would anyone stare?

All she ever needed was someone to take her outstretched hand,

And say that they'll help her through this nightmarish land.

Did you care enough to hold her hand in yours?

It's not yet too late, she has many days more.

A/N- I was looking through an old notebook, and I found a bunch of sad poetry and songs... I guess I'll publish them anyway.