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sad story, self #2 April 8, 2009

Posted by Girlbird in life, poetry, writing.
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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.

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sad story, self #1 April 8, 2009

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

Of Siblings and State Buildings February 24, 2009

Posted by Girlbird in poetry, relationships, Uncategorized, writing.
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She threw the Empire State Building against the wall.
Years later, he threw her.
The pinnacle of fourteen years spent shouting in public halls.

She took his spotlight, invaded his small
Attentive atmosphere.
She threw the Empire State Building against the wall.

She took his space, and made it fall
From the sacred height he revered,
Giving way to fourteen years spent shouting in public halls.

He took her heart and made it crawl
Into a world engineered.
She threw the Empire State Building against the wall.

They often uttered nothing at all,
A silency heavy, austere.
The rest of those fourteen years were spent shouting in public halls.

It was only a toy, insignificant, small.
But the repercussions were severe.
She threw the Empire State Building across the wall,
Cutting the ribbon to years spent shouting in public halls.

(a villanelle… and a true story.)