Neverland

She sprinted through a rugged woods Away from free loading fathers and filthy no-goods, Away from tear soaked teddy bears and lungs filled with smoke. She found herself unmoving, crying in the arms of a weeping willow oak. She is what remains of a fractured household, A rotten tapestry of liquor stains, bruised bodies, and secrets untold. She imagined what lied beyond the waterfall of misery that cascaded infinitely over her, For she was stuck observing the world in a melancholy blur Her blistered ankles fell weak and she crumpled towards the ground, Peering up at a glistering light that left her wonderstruck, spellbound She made out the shape of a body descending from above They gazed at each other, her eyes as doleful as a mourning dove He whispered in her ear as softly as the whistling wind, Leaving her once perpetually dark world seeming only to be dimmed He held out his hand to her and urged her to run away To a place called Neverland, a world where all somber thoughts are kept at bay. Though it seemed of her to be giving in to her broken mentality, She longed for an escape from pain and poison personality. As they floated above her home town, She suddenly couldn't hear bottles shattering or doors breaking down. She felt the pain lift from her small frame, And the inferno of sadness that burned interminably was but a flickering flame. They sailed across the second star to the right and flew straight on ‘till morning She hadn't prepared for the wondrous sight before her that came with no warning She broke through clouds that brushed her face with cotton candy kisses, The world of true happiness and ephemeral sunshine was once real only in her wishes. It was in the land of everlasting childhood that she was freed of all regrets, And she held flowers between her fingers instead of cigarettes Her face was flushed with shades of pink instead of black and blue, And she decided it was time to write her story anew. That night she traded her tattered nightgown for rags and a dirty fur coat, She chose put her past in a bottle and set it afloat. In that moment she could feel her true identity come unbound, They called her Lost Girl, but in that moment she never felt more found. Take The Dagger From My Heart, Please -2- Poetry Contest N/A- 100 in a ROW contest--15 9/24/16