A little sad tale
22 september 2004 Stuur e-mail Alle gedichten bekijken van deze schrijver
Filosofie / Verdriet / Zelfmoord

A little sad tale: the beginning

Breaking, crying, dieing....
The story of a young girl
Who wishes no more then to fly in
The sky with a grace like a merle
To be free of earthly worries
No sorrows on her head, no regret
That lingers in her heart, only ease
That shows in her shadowed silhouette
It is but a deluded dream she holds onto,
A wisp of fantasy that grew into a cloud
Which you could no longer look through
A mass you could almost grasp, it was a shroud
In which she could hide all her malcontent
The same way the night hides the unwanted,
They cry out, already singing their own lament
Until they die, then they are compelled to haunt it
And wilt as these feelings may after the suffocation,
No death can be brought upon them by will alone
For resolve alone can only turn it in a miscreation
That will chill you, no doubt, to the bone

And thus this tale begins….

A little sad tale: the breaking

Late that day the evening did fall
Settling on the houses as a cloak
This would prevent almost all
To see clearly past the dusky smoke
In that scarce light wispy steps are heard
Made on pavement, echoing loud
Moments passed as no man stirred
To find out what this was about
No mortal saw the young girl flee
From evening hours into the night
In the dark she stumbles over the debris
That slows her down in her flight
Her face and cheeks covered by tears
She knows not to escape from her eyes
As she tries to run away from her fears
From her anger and sorrow, from the lies
She dies with every step she takes
Just a little bit more, until there’s nothing left
To live and try to undo the whole mistakes
She wants it not, her hope is bereft
She runs away, she flees, she escapes
For her poor heart can not handle the aches
From the scratches and marks and scars and scrapes
She becomes undone, she irrevocably breaks

A little sad tale: the crying

Stars lit up and she watches the sky
Which seems endless and forever
No matter how often she asks why
The answer won’t come to her ever
Fatigue rears its head, she sits down
On the grassy ground of the park
She cares not she will stain the gown
She fears not the heavy gloom of the dark
Fingering the gown that’s tarnished and torn
She tries to deny that which did occur
Is it indeed a cause that is forlorn?
Having no answer she feels so insecure
To regain that what she lamentably did lose
She believes it is useless to be even trying
Reality comes crashing around the abuse
Unable to take it she starts crying

A little sad tale: the dieing

The liquid stars pour down in grace
Retracing a path it made moments ago
Filling in the lines of her overcast face
Pausing there a moment before they go
To feel no more pain, to know no deceit
It is what she prays to whatever god may be
No one answers in her hour of desperate need
In the end, no one cares about her or me
And so this tale comes close to an end
Yet you still know not the reason why, I believe
It may be difficult to truly grasp and comprehend
But everyone has his own reasons and limit for grieve
That what would cause your own heart to inverse
To scream and sob, to screech and start crying
Image that feeling, but a hundred times worse
Then you will understand why she choose dieing

- Tinne Verbeek -

Gecontroleerd door: christina


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 Pyro corner
Zondag, december 19, 2004 22:27 Alle gedichten bekijken van deze schrijver
Heel mooi.. Ik heb er van genoten :). Got more? :D.
Liefs xxx Pyro
Vorig gedicht | Volgend gedicht

corner Auteursrecht
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