how many emotions can a person contain within them without it becoming obvious to the rest of the world. like an expandable bottle yet it cracks with every new emotion occupying its limited space.
Red of rosy cheeks
Shoes of pristine white
Hair of black ebony
Under the mystic candlelight
One day off the lovely path
Wandered our little child
Into the arms of dark sinister craft
And of which I would now tell.
They took her in with sugarcoated words
And promises of a faery world
Then led her to the shack no one would search
And round and round the coarse ropes twirl.
Then the glistening metal came
And slashes across her tiny thighs
Each and every single day
She’s forced to write (with her own ink) a thousand single lies.
Thus begin her hew found life
Tied to pillars, dripping crimsons from below the hip
With no place to run and no place to hide
And suddenly the light goes ‘click’
And now her shoes’ a bloody red
Her cheeks are a wanly white
Hair the colour of living dead
Beneath the moment of twilight.
