Sunday, September 28, 2014

Very morbid one by Unknown writer



She had ALWAYS loved 
Swinging in the breeze, 
A quaint little wooden swing 
Just hanging in the trees. 
Such great heights were reached, 
Her feet kicking in the air, 
The sun playing upon her skin, 
The wind dancing in her hair. 
Days were spent full of glee, 
Upon that little seat. 
Years came and went, 
Cold winters and summer heat. 
She'd always return there, 
To her throne in the shade. 
All of her problems disapear, 
With past memories she had made. 
One day she came home, 
A particular hole in her heart, 
She ran to her swing, 
Ready for the healing to start. 
Low and behold, 
She sat down on her seat, 
A few seconds later, 
She was peering up at her feet. 
Pointed to the sky, 
Extending far and beyond, 
The sun met the hills, 
The rays showing their bond. 
A few deep breaths 
She felt calm and collected, 
Her swing gave her confidence, 
Her fears now neglected. 
Another day, 
She strode away from her chair, 
Knowing that her place, 
Would always be there. 
A few months later, 
While the stars lit the sky, 
She came home crying, 
Wanting only to die. 
She ran to her swing, 
Hoping to heal, 
But the ropes were frayed and broken, 
And her pain unbashedly real. 
She cryed out as she saw 
He wooden thrown on the ground. 
Broken and beaten, 
No savior to be found. 
Defeated and hopeless, 
She grabbed one of the ropes, 
Made a sad little loop, 
And slipped it over her throat. 
Just as she had 
So many times before, 
She swung in the breeze, 
Her toes scraping the floor. 
A draft hung in her hair, 
And stars illuminated her flight, 
Only her kicking was brief, 
In her final great height.


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This is where I've found it.

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