The life she led
made her hate
the simple things
that life had made.
It wasn't fair
to treat her kind
when all she wanted
was to be left behind.
Could it be
that her own love
couldn't be shared
because her dove
had been blown off
by a rogue bomb.
It's not so strange
to feel like this
when someone true
leaves your smile
locked away
like a memory.
If I could see her
I would still miss her
though now she's gone
and all I have
is diatribe after diatribe
telling me I'm bad
that everything done
has been in vain
that the reason she even
tried to love
was because it eased her pain
momentarily
enough for her
to get away
from all the things
that made her sway.
And so she said
to me one night
You've made it all up
and now it's time to flight.
Short stories, poems, among other play things. A constant work in progress. Forever changing.
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