pretty dolls with broken eyes [dead girl's poem]


"If you read this line, remember not the hand that wrote it


Remember only the verse, songmaker`s cry, the one without tears


For I`ve given this its strength and it has become my only strength.


Comforting home, mother`s lap, chance for immortality


Where being wanted became a thrill I never knew


The sweet piano writing down my life"


"Teach me passion for I fear it`s gone


Show me love, hold the lorn


So much more I wanted to give to the ones who love me


I`m sorry


Time will tell (this bitter farewell)


I live no more to shame nor me nor you


And you... I wish I didn`t feel for you anymore..."


Eva-cover


Her curls were laughing as she ran through the alley on her way home and the ill wannes almost dissapeared from her cheeks. The girl didn’t seem to have more than five before u’d look her in the eyes. Her dress was all wet because of the rain but that could wait, she was too incited to show the picture she found.

The shouts make her stop in the door, while hundreds of shivers traveled her body and hurting her ears. The raindrops fell on the floor but they were not aware she could hear. She’d want to tell him she’s sorry, but for change she only receives the rain of not-supposed-to-be-known blames and unspoken regrets that start making circles in her mind.People shouldnt make decisions with tears in their eyes, she thought, but she knows she wont be forgiven.She doesn’t really understand for what, but there must be something wrong she did. The fallen picture from her hands made them aware she was listening. She’s paralised with fear, can’t say a word.She knows what’s coming next. She also knows she has to keep her mouth shut, or it will hurt worse. This time no tear fell from her eyes, it actually felt the right thing.


Back in the swing set, she looks once more to her clown doll. Probably he’ll die with her.His huge smile still covers a big part of his face, but his look is different. He thinks she’s guilty too.Her own hands hit her head over and over again with all the strengh she found.So hard that the tears came up in a flash of second sparkling on the earth and making it spin. It felt even more right now. The blood was flooding her little shoes and everything got blurred.no congealed.no glows.just flowing, as inexpressive as empty hearts and broken dolls. Next to her, the wind was carrying an old blood-spoted photograph.

0 Response to pretty dolls with broken eyes [dead girl's poem]