when she was born
a mobile was hung above her cot
it was full of birds and clouds
and it kept her happy for hours
when she was three
her dad would take her in his arms
and whizz her around gently
as if she were flying
when she was six
she wished she had wings
like the fairies in the books her dad would read her
and she dreamt of sleeping on clouds
when she was eight
she would climb the trees in her yard
and her mum told her to come down before she hurt herself
but her dad said, 'can you touch the sky?'
when she was ten
her teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up
she said she wanted to fly
but the teacher shook his head and told her not to be silly
when she was twelve
she made paper planes just like her dad taught her
and threw them out the window of her classroom
in the hopes that he would see one from heaven
when she was fourteen
she would sneak out of the house
to escape the constant verbal abuse
and wished her mum was gone instead
when she was sixteen
she stood on the edge of a cliff
with her eyes closed
and tears streaming down her face
she said 'look dad, I'm flying!'
and she jumped
.
and in death she was free
YOU ARE READING
dark poems
Puisithis seems like poetry and prose sometimes it's more than you'd suppose see, what my mind creates, goes but what that is, nobody knows
