Whispers wander through her veins, will she ever learn to love again?
A vigilant heart, a vunrable soul, for life’s demons have surely stole.
Six weeks early into this world, here she was, a tiny baby girl.
Toddler tales to go on for miles, pretty pink dresses in millions of styles.
Sweet sixteen was finally here, along with a moment most parents fear.
Away she ran, far from her home, a terrible mistake that was yet to be known.
Time went on, twelve months passed over, none of which she had spent sober.
Beaten, abused, tattered and torn, these are the burdens that are still well worn.
Life had won and there were bridges to be burnt, the mistake she made had finally been learnt.
Home she returned to a loving embrace, tears streamed down her tragically bruised face.
Life went on and so did she, finding her purpose and her place to be.
Her heart is humble and surely blessed, no matter her past, an irrefutable mess.
The demons whispers of the life they stole, a white noise she cannot control.
A vigilant heart, a venerable soul, to mend other’s lives, her foremost goal.
She is no God, perhaps a saviour, to save souls with no debt for favour.
She asks no rewards and wants no price, just to be put to rest knowing she changed a life.
To the stars.
Someday soon your whole life is going to change, don’t miss the magic of the good old days.
As beauty prevails, her flaws remain undiscovered.
In life’s wake we drift, trying to keep up with her unsurpassed twists and turns; her dramas, irrespective of the consequences. We fight to survive, or do we fight to be relevant? To be heard against the crying shame or misdeeds of superiority until we become the superior, the relevant… the egotistical upper class wankers to lead others that were once us. We are the human race, the judgemental spawn of the invisible. We are the hungry; take no prisoners society. We are the blind, we choose to follow. Hand us a gun and a handful of bullets and the majority, if not all, we murder another human being regardless of the choice to fire a slug into the nearest inanimate object. Yet, even the most deceptive humans are capable of something astounding: love. Love will turn the most predatory beast, the most deadliest souls, into the most attentive lover. Perhaps, we are all insane? Insane in our minds, the only thing we possess that others can’t pick, can’t poison… they can’t have.
All this makes no sense, I know, but in someway you’ll relate… it’s the beauty of the human being, loveless or not we are not stupid, no… never stupid, just fragile.
They said your answers are always lying on the ocean bed. Tonight, I’m wide awake, and I’ll plead with the thousand voices.