A girl at a lake
Standing alone
Cold, lonesome, forgotten
Left there by change
The world turns without her.
Her lips are ice
Breath with no mist
Hair done up in pigtails
The daughter of fate
She'll not be missed.
A faded dress
The remains of a toy
Items of life, love, happiness
Drowned by neglect
Childhood is her name.
====================================================
There is a moment in all our lives where we stop and think, "when did I grow up?" It seems like yesterday we were children looking towards the future, now we are adults looking back at the past.
YOU ARE READING
The Quasi-Coherent Ramblings of a Self Proclaimed Hermitess
RandomIf the title didn't say it all read on. A collection of poems, other short works and random ideas with varying themes. Reader input is encouraged, oh and a "Hermitess" is a female hermit. Most entries have a base in my real life, but then again mos...
