Storyteller

Wed, 01/08/2014 - 22:13 -- dna12

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I heard a sad story once.

About a girl who seemed so happy and felt so happy 

Yet, depression was the overcast of the day

And the dark clouds at night.

And in the morning, she woke up sad.

But she got out of bed knowing this life she had wasn't all that bad.

She had a dad that was only there in her heart

And a mom who tried to hard to play the part

Two brothers whose shadows she always played in,

And a sister who hid her fears behind a grin. 

She always felt alone and wanted to leave

But she never want to go through that tunnel

because it's still too dark to see the light,

and she was afraid of judgement

So she kept to herself

She knows few people, but none of them really know her

Thinking she's an open book, but there's no words on those pages.

It's empty.

She still calls them friends.

A word she holds dear to her heart.

It's all she has.

And no one likes deception, so she keeps an eye on her back

Because she could still feel the knives

Blades cold with lies.

She often wonders why

they all left her, while she had tears in her eyes

bleeding out innocence?

She never sought vengence.

Even after the one night stands who made her feel pretty,

Only to be used

Even after the woman she called mom who made her feel special, 

Only to be look at as a failure

She still thought this world was beautiful

She knew she could never leave

I wrote a story once.

It filled the pages of an empty book.

 

 

 

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