La, La, La
Perhaps it's not the path before which dictates actions forth,
But happenings o'er yesteryears effect us to the core.
Our feelings, thoughts, emotions will now and ever know,
The cold, hard touch of history from times dark ebb and flow.
'I've long forgot, ' and 'Couldn't care, ' are muttered now and then,
Yet every time her wretched soul slinks deeper in its den.
The child she protected so now withers in its shell,
Her innocence and naivety dragged further into hell.
A sea of pain and torment coils 'round her heart, so warm,
No one'd ever understand how quick it sheared her heavenly form.
Now she lies withered and calm in earth unmoved for years,
Stripped of any dreams and hopes, but more so without fears.
She'd never known how much she meant to family, friends, and son,
The only option she'd had known: to take her life and run.
So here she rest, a cowards name, her spirit burned away,
Her time all spent, year after year, is lost more day by day.
She'll never know that all she's now is just the path before,
To family, to friends, and son, a shaking to the core.
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Comments about this poem (La, La, La by Cory Ruda )
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