Waiting
The smell and weight of darkness
Is something she cannot bear.
It erases all moments of solace
As she incessantly drowns in despair.
Falling to earth with wings unbroken,
She uses fragile dreams to climb.
Knowing that angry hands are waiting
To crush her soul each time.
Ignorance bestows moments of respite
Upon her damaged self,
Despite the luscious bitterness
Of those who wield the belt.
She's trapped within a voiceless vacuum
With shadows bleak and cold.
Punished for simply existing,
She's made to feel ugly, worthless and old.
She waits to be loved and nurtured
By those who call her Burden.
She prays upon her grave for mercy,
And finds her self uncertain.
She's a child forsaken by generations
Of disappointment and spite.
Mangled and mauled by resentment
She has no will to fight.
...and so she waits
Copyright by Amy Bishop 1-11-10
All rights reserved
Not for publication other than by Amy Bishop
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