It was autumn
Spruce leaves
They were indigo
Falling, swaying
Covering the ground
A passing person
Stepped on
And they produce
A crispy sound
It was a quarter
Before noon
A fluttering
Of a butterfly
A flittering
Of an ivory shawl
She walked
Simply graceful
A noble's daughter
A smile on her face
She spoke on a pace
She was leading
An orphan ahead
To her mansion
An invitation
To support an education
Trotting
On the way back
Maids prepared
Her bath
Offering the orphan
Big loaves
Of hardened bread
And creamed soup
Of yesterday's
Leftover dregs
Honor and claps
Society's
Positive appraisal
Humble chuckles
Quiet boasting
Back to her mansion
Inside the basement
Clacking of her heels
On the rusty walls
On the damp hall echoing
A door opened
She picked up a whip
In the dark room
A rotting odor
Dirty bodies
Wounded, huddled
On the corner
Bony frames
Eyes dead with horror
A corpse was lying
Not far from the door
It was inside a cage
Still chained
On the neck
Open flesh rotting
It was the face
Of the orphan
This morning
News was
He was saved
Fed and clothed
Sent away
A scholar
To be sponsored
But why does he lay
Inside the rusty cage
Body swarming
Worms were wriggling
Clacking of heels
A smile on her face
She spoke on a pace
Offering a little peace
The noble's daughter
A little sponsor
For scholarly orphans
She offers a splendor
But inside a door
Her smile
Is a bit crooked sinister
She wasn't helping them
She was their murderer.
JovialMask2024
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Poetry"These don't heal." TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ CONTENTS THAT SOME READERS MIGHT FIND DISTURBING. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
