Washed Away
Her hands were sore from carrying weights
That were heavier than her soul
She was worried about being late
To her own funeral
She prefered pretty lies
Over what was real
When she opened her eyes
She was able to heal
But she stayed asleep
And never wandered far
She was counting sheep
While you were counting scars
She was still tired
No matter how much she did rest
She wasn't wired
To pass that kind of test
She was trying to hold on
To what had already let go
She was just a pawn
In her master’s puppet show
She bit her bottom lip
And played with her blonde curls
But honey that’s just the tip
Of this iceberg of a girl
Rain poured from her brain
As though it was a cloud
The water streamed through her veins
And froze when she left the crowd
Her most positive thoughts may be darker,
Than her most negative blood.
He wrote his name on her heart in marker,
But it washed off in the flood.
Copyright © Grace Martin-Chang | Year Posted 2018
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