Salty drops that barely linger,
Sliding smoothly over her once pale-now reddened canvas of a face.
Young and new,delicate as a budding rose,
Any frugal emotion could have been sculpted.
Why this one?
At this age,where life dealt clean ,white playing cards;
Why did it seem as if her hand had already been tampered with?
Barely certain of who she was,
How could her fragile state of mind already be so certain of her fate?
Perhaps it was pre-determined,she convinced herself,
She was designed to endure immeasurable heartache.
She didn't want to believe it,
On the contrary.
But circumstances forced her into this mindset and she was clawing to escape it.
Alas,the almighty universe slicked the edges of reality and escaping,sadly,made had been made near impossible.
Now here she lay,painting her canvas in an ocean of misery,whilst dreaming of being dealt a different hand,of escaping her torturous game.
YOU ARE READING
Paper Heart Poetry
PoetryThey don't prepare you for these feelings when you're a kid. ●●● Pain in the shape of words because human emotion is a powerful source of inspiration. Revel in the contradictions. Swim in the salty depths of grief. Climb the mountains of sorrow. Re...
