Treasure Island

Cheryl Butler

(07/26/1970 / queens ny)

The Welch

Beautiful but dark,
enlightened but fearful of what?

Secrets hiding out front
face drawn and gaunt

poor baby she would have made it
If she saw herself in love

That they hated

The one of special talents,
still looking for her door,
there's no more in time.

She left
giving herself more
than what she kept

All In small doses gone,
are all the money and cars,
houses, nights in bars,
just hanging out

she doubts
If she was ever really
The people she thought,
she knew are strangers,
not her friends.

She woke up to a dream's end.

Tragic how reality begins,

It set in that she was her friend
until the dream began.

The fantasy of that she mattered,
that people everywhere cared for her
but reality came glass shattered

bits and pieces blown everywhere,
She was left behind

with hundreds of years to spare.

Her eyes, deep in her eyes,
show how little,
the ones she loved cared,
poor baby.

Submitted: Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, August 27, 2014

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Topic(s): loneliness

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