jump to navigation

sad story, self #2 April 8, 2009

Posted by Girlbird in life, poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
2 comments

She wears her suffering like a crown:
Garlanded in sacrifice
Ornamented in hope –
But mostly there is sorrow there.
There is pain, there.

And it is pain that consumes her,
When the lights flicker low as Evening goes to his lover.
And then again –
Rising after a sleepless night
With the sun, an indifferent ruler who seeks to scorch his subjects with his
Cheap brilliance,
It is there.

For although she rises up
Singing,
like Ira predicted
It is not a song extolling freedom
But rather, in praise of her self-crafted
(Though admittedly haphazard)
Shackles.

Advertisements

sad story, self #1 April 8, 2009

Posted by Girlbird in life, poetry, relationships, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
add a comment

What she hates most is the
bitter fact:
there is no one to blame, really,
but herself.

After all.
It was she who built the cage,
And, sleepless,
reached around the bars
to turn the key in the old, rusty lock — yes.

Baby did it,
all by herself.