She walked through the abyss of the bursted door, tiptoeing her way on the wooden floor.
Eleven years back she called it her home, now it was her doom.
They beat, her tortured her, her childhood was rotten, by her sweet oh so sweet parents.
It wasn't her fault he died, it was no one's or so she thought, his beautiful memories forever haunt.
Gone was the child happy and always in radiance, for someone only had a little tolerance.
That night, her brother, being the sweet brother he was ,went to buy her an ice cream, to watch his little sister beam.
Returning home he crashed into a truck carrying ice cream, he knew he lost, in so much pain he was couldn't even whisper, couldn't even scream.
An irony, it was.
Her sweet cherry ice cream splattered with his iron -sour blood, his lifeless body laying in the red flood.
As she reached her room, she was yanked back by force, they beat her yet again but this time there was so much blood, too much blood loss.
This is the story of Izar, looking over us the brightest star.
YOU ARE READING
to be
PoetryJust something simple, for fun. Collection of poems giving them a realistic twist. Expressing in them joy , , sadness, heartfelt ,myriad emotions.
