One to Three; Three to One

Fri, 04/03/2015 - 13:06 -- kmelder

Here is the story of three girls;

They go by what might be, what could be, and what is.

She was one,

But as the hands on the clock ticked,

She morphed into three.


The girl that might be

Is fabricated of words and opinion.

Her hair is a matted mess of Judgement,

And her eyes are sickly dulled by Exhaustion.

She has no heartbeat,

Only a paranoid mind.

Her mouth is sewn shut,

And her ears are left for Hate.

She lives in a box

That was built of Assumption just for her.


The girl that could be 

Is merely a creation of Dream and Wonder.

Her hair spills over her shoulders like a cascade of Hope,

And her eyes glisten with Joy.

Her blood courses with Confidence,

And her mind is an accumulation of Knowledge.

Her voice runs on with Optimism,

And her ears wait in Anticipation.

She lives in the clouds;

Too far out of reach.


The girl that is

Is made of flesh and blood.

Her hair is forever pulled into a bun with a band made by Insecurity,

And her eyesare bored in the face of humanity.

Her blood courses with Empathy,

And her mind is an enweavement of Art.

Her mouth is simply shut by the force of Embarassment,

And her ears are numbed by meaningless words.

She lives in a home

That is slowly crumbling beneath her feet.


One day,

The girl that could be was slain by Let-Downs

and tossed into a river flooded with the bodies of other goners.

On that same day,

The girl that might be

decided "who cares?"

And no longer was she a deadweight.

She unknotted her hair

and pulled out the string that wove her lips together.

She threw out the box,

and her heart earned a beat.

The two girls that were left were identical

and made up the girl that is.

They collided into on,

for she cuncurred herself.

This poem is about: 


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