Primrose - Poem by ally gunther
The surface I see-
A blank faced ghost,
So very confused and unsure,
With a flicker of flame
At the utter of the right name
She's hoping there's not something more
A contradiction, complication,
Her pretty world turned upside down;
And not the muscles,
Or the strength left to frown.
And it's so much more than her being unsure,
So very, very much more,
On the rim of the glass not a dropp of water is spilled,
No one notices the cracks-
And the water on the floor
And she loves primroses-
A childhood delight,
A distraction if only for a second.
Because there's so many doors,
So many paths,
And to walk one she can't come back
And she loves primroses,
But the petals are breaking,
Handled far too much.
And the glass on the floor,
Shows the last open door,
And it's breaking her feet apart
Oh the sweet thick scent of the primrose (and blood x1) x2
And the mansion she's known,
A life of a shielded babe,
Now she's wandered too far,
Not sure where we all are,
Now where is that magic wand?
Now where is that crystal ball?
Now where is the map that shows the path?
Washing off the dirt,
In the dirtiest of bath.
And the sickly copper droplets of progress,
Fill the air and combine with the flowers,
And together they will stay,
And they'll wish it all away-
And she'll forget about it for a moment.
But when she finds the trail,
She'll find that home's not where the heart is,
Because her ship has sailed,
And she's enjoyed a life of privilege.
And it'll never be the same,
Because when someone calls her name,
She will reply with a blank stare.
And now a demon possessed,
All around in her air.
And every little pore,
In the skin,
Of the girl,
Is filled with a toxic paint,
A tiny flame of flicker,
Of her left,
A tiny trace,
And the demon loves his home,
Riding on her back now and forever,
And the only time she'll hear her name,
She will never be the same,
But keep always that flicker of flame,
(In her eyes)
Always that flicker of flame
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