Saturday, May 31, 2014


guilt and shame for who she is, 
for what she does and cannot do;
denied a life promised by
a story already written

dark confusion seeps 
through matter: grey
the mirrors lie,
they have two legs,
herself she cannot see

not hidden
but extinguished,
the remnant aching
for a life allowed,
aloud; a loud. 

but kindest hearts belong
to the meekest of the earth,
are recompensed by her best gifts
(if neatly mended first)

yet what was taken
cannot be giv’n,
her healing is not quick
days are shorter than the journey
meaning n’er told

death grants what life cannot
suffering must cease
only when dry bone remains
will she have found her smile

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