Disconnected
Disconnection dissects her dawdling brain;
Isolated from the world around her she stands alone,
A solitary tear bejeweling her translucent skin
She doesn’t reach up to brush it away
Instead she smiles, sadly, at the faces around her
At the eddying current of humanity which never quite touches…
Never quite tugs her into their violent embrace
And all the while she is growing more and more delusional
Masking her suffering by pretending she can’t see it
By sticking her fingers in her ears and humming a childhood melody
When she strolls through town she feigns ignorance,
Feigns oblivion to the loneliness that marks her –
That stands out on her creamy brow like a bloodied brand
She is all alone and no one knows her anymore…
Oh sure, curious stares sometimes flick her way,
But they are hollow fragments of the love that used to be
Of the awe that used to pulse through her delicate figure
Once, she was adored; was sainted
But now her pedestal is cracked and moss-grown
And she, poor girl, is bloated by isolation; by her solitary state
By the bubble that envelops her in darkness and dreams…
It is a mournful existence she suffers now –
Pride and cowardice have sequestered her in a tall dark tower
In a room with no stairs and no doors with locks to break
Lost in dreams of what could have been, she sighs,
And raises a glass of poisoned wine to her lips;
She just can’t take it anymore…
Copyright © Amy Van De Casteele | Year Posted 2009
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