How sweet the sound of shattered glass
broken upon a child's back,
ruins of a remembered life,
infested with spite and strife.
What beauty lies within the mind
broken by men and time,
left to rot in an empty cage,
forgotten, alone, in a guilded grave.
When they turn their heads to hear
the screams, echos of pain lain here,
turned, ignoring a lone girl's call,
they fled the scene of a woman's fall.
Where stood the prince of old tales,
to which other knights had paled,
when a princess fell to doom,
by the wicked, purity consumed?
Why, the glories of the risen,
a beauty phoenix life has given,
with wings spread, away she flies,
finding her freedom within the skies.
Comments
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THis is a really great right. I loved it. You are an excellent writer. I love how you you created excellent imagery.
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Now that my daughter is one outstanding poem. You do have a flare all your own, and that my baby girl is what makes you... you.
And like what was spoken down below... Me? Bias?
Never.. but you are a wonderful poet.
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Bias?!!!
Blasphemy!!!!
i am not Bias, and I'm to tell everyone.!
And I mean everyone...
THE MADDHATTRESS IS THE BETTER POET (Besides my Momma Riftkin)
And you Better damn well know it.
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