She wills me to open my eyes
Every single day, tells me
It's going to be just fine.
She dresses me up, even
Does my hair, she smiles
At me, tells me she cares.
Puts on quite the show,
Not a soul is given a clue
Of what she's thinking
Behind the laughter
And invisible snares.
All in the game
At least until she comes back.
Once the door is shut,
Her cards are on the table,
Fingers on her neck,
She presses, breathes,
Stops, bleeds,
She let's go, only to
Hold onto metal,
Sharp enough, she's pleased.
Slashes, once, twice,
A couple more times,
She presses, breathes,
Stops, bleeds.
Her eyes flutter shut,
Her senses numb,
She gives in and
Surrenders to yet another
Night of temporary peace.
She willfully opens her eyes,
Another day, another show,
She smiles,
Touches her reflection in the mirror,
Trying to remember the day
She became her own villain.
YOU ARE READING
Echo of Thoughts
PoetryPoetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that hurt. It is a matter of life not just a matter of language... Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry....
