A poetic journey through my mind


wetless tears and soundless words,

eyes full of nightmares untold,

she lives in the past and hides from today,

her future’s already been sold.

she writes her past in lines of blood,

along one slender arm,

elixir of forgetfulness,

to shield her heart from harm.

she hides from care and shame and pain,

becomes a living doll,

a mannequin who moves and breathes,

and walks down hotel hall.

wetless tears and soundless screams,

a heart grown progressively cold,

what will be left of her when she is gone,

a story that’s never been told?

a shadow that fades from memory and thought,

a forgotten puzzle piece,

a fragment torn from the tapestry,

or a sigh of sweet release?

7 responses

  1. Oh, KC, you have made my heart ache for these types of women in this poem. It is so effective in picturing to me the actual state in which so many “ladies” around me in this small Southern town walk through their days. So SAD! I trust reading this will help some headed in this direction to take a different path before it is too late!

    March 29, 2012 at 4:58 pm

    • KC

      Thank you, granbee. *hugs* As usual, you see right to the center of things, and I appreciate it! I wish that I could think that some or all of the people I write about on the darker side of things could benefit somehow from my little poems, but unfortunately, they’ll likely never even see them. At least I know that I’m keeping awareness of that side alive, which will hopefully make a difference, even if peripherally. πŸ™‚

      March 29, 2012 at 5:17 pm

  2. lensscribbles

    You seem to have a talent for pulling at my heart strings. This poor lady I have never understood those that cut themselves or sell themselves. It just burdens my heart and makes me want to cry for them.

    March 29, 2012 at 5:09 pm

    • KC

      *hugs* For me, that’s what poetry is all about. Whether it’s a happy or beautiful or silly or funny or sad or dark or angry image, if it gets seen, it’s good. πŸ™‚ All that I write, even the prompts and “quickies”, start out as imagery before they ever turn into words. My greatest goal is to have people see those images as I do…or at least as whatever it appears as to them. πŸ™‚

      March 29, 2012 at 5:21 pm

  3. This touched my heart , it is such a frightening view of many in this world, those hardened because of pain in their lives, those hardened because of the job they have been forced into and choices they have made.Those who are prostitutes or drug addicts, so sad so painful what mark will they leave who will remember them. I pray I never go that way.
    You have written this poem beautifully and you have a talent for showing the lost and the hopeless.

    March 30, 2012 at 3:35 am

  4. Nicely put.

    March 30, 2012 at 9:30 am

  5. thanks for the follow, KC – & I like your stuff too. Am following πŸ™‚

    March 31, 2012 at 3:09 am

Talk to me, people! ;)

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