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Abigail Mooney Poem
She lays in her bed...wondering...confused in love.
Every night before the moon drifts, she speaks to a man,
as she speaks, trying to figure out who this man is.
She talks in such a sweet voice, sweeter than honey
could ever become. She asks this mystical man the same
question every moonlight. "Will you help me find
my once in a lifetime knight?" She lays listening to
the sound of silence for days...waiting for an answer,
wondering if such a man everyone talks about is as
false as she sees herself. She dreams every night...but doesn't
encounter it, with the reality poisoning her head as she wakes.
Deemed that she was actually somewhere delicate...
somewhere beautiful. She stays arranged with confusion
of such enchantment ascending from her few'z.
With a blessing she takes as a curse.
She speculates if maybe...just maybe, she should look
at the mirror differently. She arises for the last time, broken,
and afraid. She walks towards the disintegrated mirror...
Looking at someone she doesn't recognize,
questioning herself in soliloquy, "who am I?", "what am I?"
"How am I?" Then bursting through the maze of the mirror,
a bright light shines, brighter then the blinding sun.
The little girl with her eyes covered with fear,
opens her lashes looking at the consolidate mirror
with an astonished smile and speaks.
"I have found myself, and as myself a masterpiece!"
Copyright © Abigail Mooney | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Abigail Mooney Poem
Walls determine character, because those that
have something to hide will leave it behind walls.
The secret that hides goes deep internal...
but is trapped...screaming...mourning...trying to escape.
Her tears constantly seep...and seep...and seep
down her cheek, as shes demanding to grasp for air.
She's drowning...obliterating from her own tears...
drenching from her own soul...from her own mind,
as it wonders...wonders off at night...If maybe...just maybe
his mind examines such beauty. But as she arises,
hoping she shall encounter delicacy one day,
she questions from the deep pain
that strikes her brain...Is she in pain? Is she pain?
WHY SO MUCH DARN PAIN?!
Such beauty...such a curse that was built from a gift.
Keep vaulting... Keep vaulting, as she tells herself
when she's reaching for such victory.
She glances down and sees them...
the criminals...the ones who have killed...
the ones who have stabbed her in the back.
They such vile men as they walk the roads as cowards.
Performers are what they should become...
convincing the world their good...that the passion engulfing
their hearts is love...but no! no! their far from love. They
question "what is such a word?" Love...love...so complicating...
but such allure follows. The wall has punctured...as the voices
of wonder cast out...but yet she still wonders...of the world love.
Copyright © Abigail Mooney | Year Posted 2018
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