In the cold nights of September
I hear the weeping little girl
Spending these nights imprisoned
at four corners made of stone
where blood shed over the walls
here and there, sorrow calls
one could never do anything
only to diminish her pain
How she wished that her life would end
than to live in sorrow and pretend
living a life she could never bare
where there’s her alone, no one cares
She blinked her eyes on me
expressing the catastrophe
feeling ashamed and neglected
here in the world that has ended
Then suddenly I felt something
inside my heart that kept stinging
and gradually, it worsened
I screamed but nobody listened
I dropped my body on the floor
a matter of three seconds or four
Then I put my eyes back to the girl
And surprised of what she did to her
heart which she stabbed with a knife
Slowly her wound ended her life.
I went through the same feeling of pain
My body became numb and strained
I knew I was dying like her
But why? I came to wonder
Til’ it finally sank into my mind
the girl was me who just died.
3 comments
Wow. I understand. I wrote something along similar lines of having the innocence die inside you. I called it “I Thought She Died At Age 17”.
Beautiful writing btw.
Very beautiful..
ya i knw wat it feels like to be dead inside the writing was indeed beautiful beatiful and true a sad truth to be known