Look at her.
A beauty so rare
Barely noticed,
Hardly seen.
Hidden beneath
The dark
The twisted
And
Obscene.
A voice speaks
So pure,
Soft
So raw, yet tender
Oh how lovely,
Her simple beauty.
Can you hear it?
The whispering sounds upon your ear lobes.
Or is the pounding of your sinful heart
Echoing too loudly.
Now she cries.
(drip)
And the tears are knives
Cutting away at your already shattered soul.
Each drop carries a bit of her life.
She’s dying
Your pleas to your god will
Not save her.
So stand, do not look away
Watch this heavenly phoenix
Become ash.
(drip)
See a distant
Ocean
Flashing through
Her eyes.
Can you feel the waves dragging the sand from under your toes?
(drip)
Her quiet storm
Soundlessly.
Rages.
Yet, she makes no sound.
No changes
of expression.
Elegant in her
Lonely way.
Always silent
Always afraid,
(Fear is what makes us brave)
Never complains
Already a quiet grave.
A cold
beauty
(Drip)
Don't insult her
By asking why.
It’s too late for
Questions.
(You missed all your chances)
Time to say your
Good bye’s.
(Drip)
Watch the last
Of our now
Sleeping beauty
Die.
(Splash)
Copyright 2004 Natelle Kruse
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