Little she understood
when the hands of afternoon
awakened her ghost.
Without a groan
she accepted her fate all alone,
afraid of the sun, fearing her sleep,
marching across hell
when the dolls were sweet.
Waters were pale and dark,
hearts were noble and weary,
she was invisible.
Can anybody see who was
lingering by her seat?
While she was there trying
to solidify air, the moon was
her consolation for the night
would call her to play as the fairies
wept.
Oh!It was a nightmare!
Oh!Nobody was there.
Oh!Why wasn't anybody there?
She never understood
beneath what sky fate hid.
She never understood
why she had to bleed.
When she looks inside,
those afternoons are still in pain.
Her ancient rage shall pass
as the summer and the spring
when she finds her voice beneath
an unexpected star or maybe
when her dishevelled dolls sing.
Karla Bardanza
when the hands of afternoon
awakened her ghost.
Without a groan
she accepted her fate all alone,
afraid of the sun, fearing her sleep,
marching across hell
when the dolls were sweet.
Waters were pale and dark,
hearts were noble and weary,
she was invisible.
Can anybody see who was
lingering by her seat?
While she was there trying
to solidify air, the moon was
her consolation for the night
would call her to play as the fairies
wept.
Oh!It was a nightmare!
Oh!Nobody was there.
Oh!Why wasn't anybody there?
She never understood
beneath what sky fate hid.
She never understood
why she had to bleed.
When she looks inside,
those afternoons are still in pain.
Her ancient rage shall pass
as the summer and the spring
when she finds her voice beneath
an unexpected star or maybe
when her dishevelled dolls sing.
Karla Bardanza
Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2011
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