Almost like winter
Almost like rain
Scar tissue forming
Around rivers of pain
They ask of her why?
But they need no suggestions
Her cold blank stare
Like a mirror of their affections
The cross around her neck
They think is for show
But the symbol of suffering
Means more than they’ll know
A lynch pin of sorts
That holds her together
The flesh may be weak
But the soul is forever
She speaks in volumes
With just a few words
Philosophically-gifted
But I guess they never heard
The writing on the wall
Hidden blood-stains on the floor
Screaming inside for something
She can no longer remember what for
It’s funny how the memories
Seem so real, even now
Maybe it’s emotion
And the strength of why and how
It's almost like winter
And it's almost like rain
I still think of her now
Though I’ve never seen her again
© 2008 Efamilia
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/16184/110576 on Tuesday December 02nd, 2008 01:23 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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