N U D E - poetry of an unquiet mind ✓

x. island, oh mine

Island, oh mine

Let me paint you a mental picture,
Of a girl who was never her mind's victor.

Imagine an island of pure isolation,
A girl, a gun and complete desolation.

She's been marooned since she was eleven,
She waited for the angels to take her to heaven.

All around, quickly fading were life's joys,
That's when it started, the patronising voices.

"Why are you so messed up? Take that gun and kill yourself,
You're clearly not worth it, not one person to say farewell."

She put the gun to her head,
Thirteen yet ready to cut the thread.

She pulled the trigger and waited for her demise,
No bullets came out, much to her surprise.

Click, click, click went the gun,
She didn't want to suffer - she wanted it to be done.

Weary tears flow as she cusses at the skies.
"You won't save me, so why won't you let me die?"

For the first time in years she looked to see if there was more,
But at sixteen, all she saw was black oil along the shore.

With little to no will to survive,
She stood at the edge before taking a dive.

She was gold, swallowed by dark and poisonous tar,
Too deep in misery, gone too far.

When she opens her eyes, she was back on the island,
Left to suffer - tormented by the silence.

What a tricky little island, oh so cunning,
She accepted that all this time, God was bluffing.

He looked down on her, thinking "How mistrusting.
Should've handed me your demons but now they have you running."

She'd failed his test, she'd failed to see,
The holy sign that said, "Give your problems to me."

Now she's twenty-two and still marooned,
Stillplacing band aids on gaping wounds.

// R.M.