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Upholstered Visage
by maidmarian25

We had knelt at your feet seeking your grace.
We had served upon you in beseech of your approval.
Neither were granted, the stifling of our resounding glee.
We were the pawns you had cast aside, your small errors.

You were the why of our because, the not of our perhaps.
I think now of those days as this sun falters.
Heaven has become blackened with ancient welts, innocence denied.
In your absence we are as new as crocuses emerging from the dark garden soil.

Reverence. My eyes shyly look aside.
The flesh may recoil, stink and swell and rot but an angst ridden soul will bloom in your throne for aeons more.
Each day you shall remain.
Each day our muddy hurts purged.
You are our pharoah, you have made us what we are, the hollow-eyed meek.

Copyright 2000 maidmarian25

~~~ Reflections~~~
by Tracy

A little girl lies huddled a broken doll fallen from the shelf in her bedroom closet.

Weeping.... endlessly into the night, no one hears her cries. No one stops to question why.

The weight of her world lies massively on her soul yet no one stops to wipe her tears no one's there to calm her fears. She is left alone with her pain.

She knows not why she always cries. She knows not why she has been left alone in pain and fear and endless loneliness.

She knows not why her tears anger her father. She knows not why that anger causes her mother to scuttle around in fear and desperation to fix the world.

Instead of comforting her daughter the mother lashes out to appease her husband. And the little girl is left alone once again to cry into the darkness and wonder why no one hears her cry.

The years go by and the little girl sleeps. Not soundlessly nor restlessly just sleeps.

Four years turn into ten... Ten into twenty some... and she is left at the end of the road like a vagabond with Gucci bags

She turns her head to the side and then wonders.... what she all left behind.

A trail of tears countless men and close to a dozen one night stands. Jobs left on the heap "Homes" left in haste... friends who forgot to call and men who spoke of empty promises.

A husband who forgot to care to listen to respect her to cherish her in everything she was, could be and had to offer... but mostly... he forgot to love her.

She had turned into the little girl who was use to people not hearing her cries

She stands alone at the end of that road, kicks the dust up under her feet, digs her heels in... takes a deep breath... and just screams.

Through the trees she sees the light and stops to wonder where it leads. Never thinking once to question what lies ahead but to never forget what got her there.

Happy birthday little girl... go catch your dreams.

Copyright 1999 ~Tracy~

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