Saturday, April 17, 2010

The Girl.

I lay on the floor, sprawled out, desperate.
I cry, leaving the floor with puddles of distress.
I see nothing, nothing but the stars and moon.

O moon you see me too well,
How you show my every breath.
The stars see my heart,
Pouring out to darkness.

The arms that hold me are but my own.
The sound in my ear is just my soul.
The emptiness soon surrounds me, and everything.

Sophisticated business they say this is,
Yet how I still seem a child.
See the mirror?
It holds a girl.
A girl with a broken heart.
See how the moon shines upon her?
The pale skin now shining,
But showing her dark and limping heart.

No bird could make her sing.
No sun could be her light.

But keep limping little girl,
Build up your heart.
I wish you light as well little girl,
For the heart that drags and disconnects you
From the One who holds you dear.