Lolly is shy and hides her eyes.
She dances in the night.
Her voice a flute, high and sweet,
Her lips red and ripe.
Her golden locks trapped in a braid,
But her hands reach for the sun.
She doesn't speak, she doesn't weep,
Merely looking and listening.
Her eyes see all, like the fall,
But frozen is her heart.
She can't feel the pain inside,
Or the knives in her back.
As she falls, there is no sound.
But the proud Varnack lowers himself
And sweeps her up into his tender embrace.
He tends her wounds,
Her blood stains his clothes,
But he could care less.
"How could they treat you so,
My little darling girl?
Why do they stab you and jab you?
You never said a word!"
Varnack cried as Lolly died,
Then his tears took him to her.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry from Pain
PoetryThis is just some poetry that I have written over the years. It's kind of an experiment, as this will be the first thing I post here. Please feel free to criticize me as much as you like and give any advice you have. I hope you enjoy (PS: I'm not t...
