Poems Of Broken Heart

The perfect child

She was a perfect child,
Never fussed, never demanded,
An evergreen smile lurked on her lips,
Indeed,she was a faithful little creature.

A perfect pretty child,
With an amazing complexion,
A child of dream,
A child perfectly perfect,
A child of simple mind,
A child of domitable spirit,
A child who never rebelled,
A child so obedient.

A child made of nothing,
A child incapable of understanding the real world,
She was there behind the veil,
The veil, they wickedly bestowed on her,
The veil painted with smiling eyes and dried saplings,
Though she herself never felt them,
A soul too numb to feel,
And the spectators?
Well they enjoyed the withering process.

The black cloth veiled her real tears,
It veiled her real fears,
She was perfect,
No complain ever came against her,
She was inside something,
Which she would have never imagined herself to be,
Had she been alive.

She was an ideal child,
A pleasing sweet puppet,
Held with strings that never broke.

She was complimented for her pleasing features,
A mouth that never complained,
A mind held in horrible grip,
That was made to dance to the songs of monsters,
But amidst of all these beautiful features of her,
One thing people despised about her,
Her liveless eyes,
Devoid of any joy or happiness,
Tired with fatigue,
Out of life long ago.

Almost starved to death,
Staring out of their sockets,
A ruthless blank stare,
Without any blinking,
The life wiped out of it forever,
The only chance and that too slipped out of her reach.

And when they finally lifted the veil,
They saw her eyes were closed,
Nothing started back at them,
Only silence,
Only the heavy lead silence,
Only the loud haunting silence,
And they covered her face again,
A liveless expression on her young tortured face, the smile gone.

But this time the cloth was not embroidered, neither it was designed,
It was clean, spotless and plain white,
They gathered around her coffin for the last time,
And finally blew out the candles,
And she went away with the smoke,
Rising with the gentle warm breeze,
A soul finally out of her cage,
Freedom finally letting her in.

-Larkspur Hills

Note: To the young child inside each one of us, who went through so much pain, an acknowledgement to all their sufferings....