Ice Prison and a Golden Quill

She stood,
watching the pane of ice
reflecting her soul.

She stared,
wearing her emotion on her sleeves,
but wearing masks of sarcasm to brush it off.

She was alone,
and lonly,
craving the silver spoon
or the slick scarlet ladle..
both too slippery to grasp.

She whimpered,
her emotions spilling over,
her fear
stinging her
confusing her
melting the ice
that she'd worked so hard
to place.

She sat,
burying her head
in her fists.
Sick of existance,
fumbling in the dark,
the icy-glass cracked
and she tumbled
through the looking glass.

Landing face first on
a golden quill.

World alight
her soul took flight
at the site
of the cure
for her blights.

Her soul
and her emotions
would no longer
cause commotions
far worse than any
turbulant ocean -

She carved her hate
anger and sorrow
til she was
left with
only
Smiles.

Author notes

-looks about confusedly- I don't really know how I formed this... it's alright though... It pretty much describes, in a certain way, me, because when I'm brimming with dark emotions I like to spawn a poem...

Not my usual style of dark. For that, see my page, then go to the cannibalistic goth chronicals... Otherwise...

Enjoi...
Critique enjoyed by moi...