They whisper and she has many dreams, They feed off of their words and they cant see that she sees, That they paint a smile on, as she greets them, And as she turns her back, they start speaking. Shes the conversation and they start to feel better, Shes the target painted red, shes the scarlet letter. Everyone knows her, just ask everyone, They animate her mistakes just to forget they make their own, She notices the remarks and she thinks of them often, Like vultures, they conjure, gathering stones next to her coffin, Theyre the best pretenders, when she knows she lies, But she cannot even come close to one of their many disguises. She reflects upon herself, as they hold up the mirror, She knows that shes been many things and perhaps thats why they fear her. What will she do next? they ask, I knew she wouldnt change, And without ever being present, she knows exactly what theyll say. She peers into her life, she sees the shadows and all of the scribbled lines, That jumble together just close enough, that they start to define her. Shes a liar and I know it, I just cant give her another chance! And they start to get a little nervous, because something happens next, Startled they now look at one another, because this cannot be possible, The room begins to close right in and now they are uncomfortable. All of the words that theyve spoken, are audibly repeating, But the voices that carry the noise arent theirs, and they continue speaking. Their faces crinkle like paper and their hearts sink into their chests, Yelling they now say Thats not who I am! and so begins the defense. And each of their names are headlining, in all of the voices sick poetry, And all of the things that they said of her are what theyve done or are doing, Ashamed, each one of them steps back, from the circle they confided in, And the mirror they held up to her, is turned around on them. They see each of their reflections as they yearn for a second chance, And the voices say, Youll never change, so get used to being like that, And each day that they live after, they notice how the world seems so red, And its not because of each mans actions, but because pain paints a scarlet letter.
Posted on: Sat, 28 Jun 2014 05:27:33 +0000
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