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The Sad Girl's Fable

Deep Poem

By Kendra LuttrellPublished 5 years ago 2 min read
1

As she lays down on soft cotton,

With that dull look in her eyes,

All good memories forgotten,

And her head is filled with lies.

She thinks back to her younger days,

When the dark figures first started to appear,

She lost all her light from the sun rays,

And she had many things to fear.

She lies there and remembers saying,

As she takes the staggered breath,

“If He takes me while I'm sleeping,

It'll be a peaceful death.

No more sleeping with monsters,

Or waking to this cruel hell.

I won't have to listen to the tricksters,

As they try to train me well.

I could close my eyes and follow Him,

To a safe and painless world.

Happiness would fill me to the brim,

For once I'd be a happy little girl.”

With her 7-year-old eyes,

She stared at the figures and said,

While holding back her cries,

“It's better than putting a bullet through my head.”

They hug her oh so tight as her flashback ends,

10 years later she sits quiet,

Wrist stained red and the figures as her friends.

She wants to know back then why she decided to fight it,

To the dark figures who come from her head,

She blinks her tired bloodshot eyes and asks,

“Why am I not dead?”

It would have been a simple task,

My thighs and wrists always red,

And my head... such a mess.

Why not push me harder to grab a bottle of pills,

Or the gun sitting on the table,

Why not make my life a fable?

Where everyone could learn a lesson,

That words can kill the weakest hearts,

And suicidal people might have no one to confess in.

So tell me what to do now... I give my fate to you,

The dark figures who never leave me,

I'm finally done I'm through.

Please just set me free,

That's one thing I ask of you,

I'll close my eyes and dream tonight,

To find out if what they say of heaven is true,

If you leave me for the mornings light,

Then I'll take a brand new breath.”

The tired girl's eyes flutter closed,

And once again she prays for her death.

As she drifts to sleep she doesn't feel exposed,

And as she wakes the next morning she breathes a deep breath,

And tries her best to ignore the voices,

For she had said she wouldn't dream of death,

She lives her life to make good choices,

And although she seems to struggle,

She always picks herself back up,

She lives for the seven year old who had extremely rough,

The one that felt like a complete fuck up,

Now she finally feels like she's enough,

Her scars tell her story,

It's written all over her skin,

She can bathe in the glory,

That she's finally happy within.

sad poetry
1

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