A black string, attached to a foot. A ball and chain, claw marks on a tree.
A small gem, at the bottom of the string. A kaleidoscope of light that screams, faces staring back through poisoned memories. Aresenic to break the bark.
Drag along the lonely road. People pass and words not meant for cruelty cut green leaves. The gem grows.
The weight become to heavy, a gem that's dark, red, pain. Fallen to knees, scream and scream, sobbing to the quiet world. Roots loosen and start to rot.
Sounds carry through still air, and quiet footsteps appear in the fast pacing dark.
A gentle hand grabs the gem, struggling to left the weight off the ground before rubbing little circles into it, bright golden yellow shoots in spindles from their fingertips.
Another hand, light lilac shoots spiral around the gold.
More hands, more touches, more fingers, more mere brushes.
Dark navy blue, bright brilliant grassy green. Deep velvet red, glittery black suits.
A rainbow appears over the gem.
It shrinks, into a tiny heart, and floats into a blazer's pocket, as light as a feather. Faint laughter and smiles, gummi bears and jokes, small talk, are faintly heard. The person on the ground smiles softly at the hands of the others, covered in their colored pattern.
The gashes in the tree heal. The roots grow back even stronger than before. The leaves weave strings and repair themselves. The bark thickens, leaving but scars showing the damage that had been done.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
