Her skeleton lies under the rubble, slender fingers peeking out from the long settled weight of cement. Jaw slacked open, no one knows if it was shock or an opulent joyous laughter before the skin peeled.
When the dead weight is lifted, her body lies in the dirt with such poise that one would imagine its planned, the scream, the crash and the soul departing. The curves on her body now mere empty, hollow bone structure. You could almost picture the perfection that settled upon the yellowing bones.
You could almost see the pained but too perfect of a smile on those lips that hold nothing but dirt and grime, the expensive jewelry on her elegant and slender fingers making the others jealous of the girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
Preposterous rumors of her life weighing down on her lifeless form even after the rubble was lifted. One can only wonder what that body went through before succumbing to such a form. What the world put on the feeble, fragile and delicate body that made it loose the charm and spark, receding to just mere worm food.
Flowers bloom through the yellowing bones of her chest, beautiful yet painful.
That's what the world was for her.
Beautiful, yet painful.
YOU ARE READING
Rhyming Resurrections - a teenager's thoughts
PoetryJust random blurbs of writing on love, mental health and more <3 // Don't copy my work. Its my own and not copied.
