Friday, March 06, 2009

The Unaccepted.

She can’t feel the wind blow

She can’t tell to where they go

Paralyzed, the unwanted ghost crying in the corner

The night starts singing, they won’t end the night

They won’t end the torture, the ghost still has to face the massacre

She can feel all eyes staring at her

They’re drooling, their fangs sharpened

They speak as they detain

They laugh as they bite

They scream as they kill

And they kill as hell

She doesn’t want to feel anything anymore

Like a one-winged angel, she losses her power

No arm

No shoulder

No one

She’s the unwanted, she is the princess become the scum

Excruciating, like a werewolf seeing a full moon

Delivers painful messages through injuring

Something she would live forever with

Something she would bear as weakness

Something she would become

The unaccepted

She would do wrong for the rest of his [unreal] life

Screaming will be muted

Protest will be a pantomime

Body will be wasted

Hand will be petrified

Tears will be useless

Death will be heaven

The unwanted remains still

Night seems unfriendly

Where dark cannot offer comfort anymore

The owl hides its head, it tells it cannot save her anymore

To the fanged fear, to the bitten reality

To the fake saint who kills your soul discreetly in faux blissfulness

She wishes to be unseen

The ghost wishes to be a ghost.

- G -