When they mentioned her name it was in disgust
Descriptions of ugliness was all she got
She was every little thing they desired not
flying their darkness as their crow of dread
She was a different kind, no ladylike dresses she wore
No makeup, no sprays, she was clean of that, untouched
She meant no harm, but she was seen as thorns
As she walked the streets it got empty, but full with eyes
Even though unwanted, eyes like to follow, groans like to speak
So to say she walked alone, it would be wrong
Always she was followed, always her name was mentioned in disgust
The Lady in Dark
Storms passed by, many moons came and went
Thoughts bleeding, still their crow of dread
Until finally she lay on the dying’s bed
Welcoming, she happily joined the dead
Never alone she was
The Lady in Dark
Untouched
Uninfected
Their crow of dread
No comments:
Post a Comment