Bow and Arrow

I arrive at the palace in a red, wrinkled palace.

The mysterious moonlight sheds purple light upon me.

I am refreshed.

Your palace doors are bolted shut

With chains poisoned specifically for me.

Yet my hands foretell my life's patterns,

Bruised, battered, broken,

I stand in the moonlight,

Waiting.

The palace remains impregnable through night

And each cry I make, each cry I regurgitate

Adds another boltto the door.

The sun comes out in glistening glory

But its hotness reflects upon my face.

I pound on the door, and slip notes beneath--

No response.

I stand, statuesque, waiting.

Finally, the boltsremove themselves

Crossed at the dastardly doors.

I enter, eagerly, expecting love and life.

To you, I hand my only rose

But in return, an archer jumps from the shadows,

And shoots me trhough the heart.

As my blood cries out for justicve

You silence me, and send for my shroud.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741