As if the grass had leaves
my feet glide freely on the breeze
where a blade is not nearly a leaf
and the shamrock steals my luck like a thief.
The four clovered dreams predict a promise
that love and riches aren't quite that fully honest
and the fields of clover begin to burn yellow
brittle and crushed in stealy love mellowed.
Should the leprechauns appear
to curtail the disappointment clear
can we ask for the golden pot
or just a glass of beer to fill the spot?
Silly shamrock dreams
whispering a tease along the steams
through the field of gold
searching for the wish we hold.
Nonsensical play on words
should the Irish in me be heard.
Trying to do the rhyme time
to poetry once more find
I'm dying
if I'm lying.
She's locked in silence and fear, behind that cold glass wall.
She tries with all her might to not give into her darkest temptations.
And grab that stealy cold blade, and watch as her blood comes pouring out.
She lays in desperation waiting...
For nothing.
For everything.
Her desperation takes over, begins to control her.
She cries out in anguish.
Let's it all flow out.
Tears, Blood, Love, Family, Her Life.
It all comes out in one swift motion of her best friend.
Her razor blade.
She closes her eyes and clenches her teath.
Wishes it would all go away, but she knows there's not such thing.
Grew up wanting to die, it was so hard.
Wishing she could be normal like everyone else.
All she wanted is not to be locked in a box full of emotions.
Blood flows down her arm and all she hears is her silent sobs.
Watches her life pass infront of her.
She fades in and out.
Laying in her pool of desperate, worthless blood.
One more breath, those last words.
I love you mom and dad.
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