***
11/12/18
___
She feels nothing,
Staring with glassy doll eyes
At them.
Them with their questions.
Questions
Endless interrogation.
She doesn't answer
She doesn't flinch.
Because...
Why would she?
Why should she speak
If they'd never
Believe her anyway?
She is not the boy who cried wolf.
But she is
Not an angel
Who they'd willingly praise.
Just tell us the truth, they'd repeat.
An endless loop that will not stop.
And they know this.
So she sighs.
Tearing apart her sealed lips,
That had been sewn with invisible thread
Pierced with needles stained with resignation.
She opens her cracked mouth,
Eyes blank, unrelenting
With her cold gaze.
Ready to tell the truth,
Her truth
Which they will call the lies she'd made.
YOU ARE READING
Neon
Losowe(SOMEHOW, REGULAR UPDATES) A collection of poems, short stories in poetic form, rants hidden in poetic form and other things that pop up in my head. *** Staring at the canvas, She chose to pluck a brush From her own head, And paint with the colours...
