Join Date: Apr 2006
The aplauds die,
And the curtain opens,
The children scream,
And the adults sigh,
The lady is showered with roses,
And she bathes in their thorns,
I just stand amidst the caos,
Scrathcing my head and making funny faces,
Trying to get my head around it,
My eyes wonder,
My eyes wander,
And settle to the blonde goddess,
Wearing strips of sequined silk,
And her feathered shawl,
I watch her bleeding,
watch her carressing,
Her injuries and rolling on the roses,
Pressing and ripping her arms and herchest on the thorns,
Of the roses,
The crowd threw,
And for got to pick off,
I stare kind of strangely,
And the baby wailing,
At the mother sighing,
As her child is starving,
And looks in horror at the stage,
At the blonde goddess,
Who's carving up her misery,
On the oak wood stage,
Such a romantic death i though,
Bleeding to death amongst roses,
And loving the pain which breaks her barriers,
Meet the baby's...
And we stare at each other,
If this is part of the act...
we're not sure,
But it looks pretty real,
And the baby is crying and the mother is shushing her,
"Its exciting...don't ruin it for me you selfish child..."
And plugs a dummy in her mouth,
It hurts my ears,
Mummy she's dying,
But all infants cries go unheard...
My mouth is dry...
And the blonde goddess is squirming,
Like its pleasure and panting,
And the babes cry weakens,
Blood trickles off the stage,
And leaks down the platform,
Rivers across the floor,
And i jump,
Its on my shoes...
The instruments stop,
The the people blink and whisper,
Is it real?
The cast around her murmer,
Her husband bends down and checks her pulse,
he screams it,
The adults scream and the children have no tears left to cry,
Me and the babe,
The curtains close on a an anguish,
That is believed to be a play,
All of you.
I hitch up my skirt,
And get up from my seat,
There are a few typing errors so excuse them, thankyou...
I'm like an atom,
So small you can not see me,
Try and split me,
And i'm not so little anymore...
Last edited by girlonfire : 05-05-2006 at 08:58 AM.