the curse of of one liners

Morning After War

Fri Mar 27, 2009 12:48 am

the still, silent sadness of the cerulean sky
withheld the madness of the early morn
when incarnadine taint was the window's hue
and taupe carpets were spotted red

The small and fragile child peeked out of the cupboard
and saw what she feared, saw what she dreaded
the once lively room, now filled with once lively souls
once staring into the cold ceiling, then staring no more.

In silence she crept, down the staircase to the hall
the hall where once she played, once she danced
The hall with the mirror, the mirror where she used to admire herself
The mirror where she used to see herself as lovely.

She hears a sharp crack,
And then another
One crack after the other,
Until cracks she hears no more.

Now in silence she stares at the mirror
stares at the nothingness that was her body.
stares at the floor, stares at her.

Stares, then stares no more.

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