Once, there was a girl,
broken in her heart,
catastrophe in her bones,
tragedy in her blood,
a smile on her face.
And that's how she went on.
White lies, bad disguise,
you can't look me in the eye.
Deep pain, all in vain,
hiding behind confetti and champagne.
You don't look the same,
surrounded by those flames,
stuck in your spiral of shame.
Webs spun, loaded gun,
once again, you're on the run.
Blackbird, empty words,
stuck in a loop of all the lies you've heard.
You don't look the same,
feigning fortune and fame,
but nobody knows your name.
Smoking, heartbroken,
the beast inside awoken.
Withdrawn, just a pawn,
one more surprise attack and you'll be gone.
You don't look the same,
taking all of the blame,
conspiratorial frame.
But if you dare
to lose your life of solitaire,
and liberate yourself from the electric chair,
maybe you'll see
that all your crimes as a baby
were never yours and you never created the dust and debris.
It was never your fight,
it was never your war.
They should've been your night light,
they should've been your protector.
But instead they're the reason you hid
when you were just a little kid.
Little girl,
where you gonna run?
Where you gonna run to?
Little girl,
are you gonna hide?
Are you gonna hide for all your life?
Little girl,
it doesn't get easier
on your own,
all alone.
Little girl,
it's a mistake.
Turn around and run the other way.
Little girl,
you'll be okay, I hope.
Little girl,
someday, you will.
Once, there was a girl,
broken in her heart,
catastrophe in her bones,
tragedy in her blood,
a smile on her face.
And that's how she went on.
YOU ARE READING
The Things We Don't Talk About
Poetry***Trigger Warning: Mental health, mental illness, eating disorders, suicidal ideation, self-harm*** A collection of poems delving into the dark side of the human experience. From high highs to low lows, emotion can be intense. And this collection s...
