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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1327523
Why doesn't anyone ever notice how hurt some people are?

Daylight draped in betrayal,
As the raw halo of the unforgiven
Burns red in the playground dust.
There's the smooth, maroon notebook
Eyes gliding over the smeared lead
Taking it away and
Opening it and
Making it known that
A fortress has
Collapsed.

There are demons in disguise
Everywhere
Or so it seems.
The angelic eyes are bottomless pits to
Unpitying minds.
There is no compassion here.

It's a secret.
Something controllable and enraged.
Who can understand it above that age?
Where storms fume
Within glances that know and understand
Too much they shouldn't.
And dark, grey, skeletal trees
Tower
Far above the ground.
With their pinched branches frowning down
And shaking in a cold wind.

The same wind that slaps skin
Selfishly assuming that the world feels as little as it does.
The wrath of its non-emotion,
Like a child's,
Haunting and scrutinizing and biased
Against non-perfection.
The eyes, pitted into low brows,
Are black with a desperate, primal lust
To see something vindictively cruel.

Encompassing,
Like shadows ominously leering,
The storm clouds
Roll over.
And pearls in blue-white paint
Splatter from dizzying heights,
Drizzle becoming sobs from the sky.

And though the briar of nails
Brings forth the broken,
Running away doesn't seem to work.
The secret stays secret.
© Copyright 2007 Dr Matticakes Myra (dragoon362 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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