Imagination controls the heart.
There she sits, perched upon her bed, her back to the wall, her face on the window.
The curtains are closed and trail on the floor, adjoined as though an unlit stage
And she sits as though hypnotised, watching the wall to see if anything goes.
She wants to close her eyes and imagine that the curtains will open without aid,
An act will start and she'll smile once more.
She wishes for the best, for the past and mostly for the un-becoming.
The curtains are opened and the lights are bright, applause fills the room, the lead scans the isles.
She closes her eyes and watches the scene before her unfold, the characters, they know.
Knocked back from her feet, sat down for once, taking a break from the false smiles,
To notice the things she never thought would actually show.
Of course she used to cry over this every night before sleep.
Hoping that everything would be okay with every fall.
Dancing with all the passion she can find in her heart, to find the key to unlock the cage.
“Just because we can't do it the way we planned.” she sang out, not a hint of emotion held.
As she stands from her carefully structured ball on the stage,
She reaches upwards, colours start to swirl and enfold her in a different world.
And suddenly she crumples, the tall and elegant stance becomes no more than a heap,
A heap of black and white on the floor.
The scene changes and she's sat in a field, the breeze blows her hair,
And dries the tears that fall freely from her face,
The paths engraved onto her cheeks and she makes no effort to wipe them from there.
The yellow flower in her auburn hair spreads it's pollen from it's base.
The colour of her dress, a royal blue, seems like the sea, moved with the wind,
The blue on the green of the grass mixes and once again she travels without a thought to move her.
Her expression changes to nothing but a face, as delicate as a china doll.
Never does she smile any longer, not the pressure of a thousand needles could make her feel.
She reflects on the images and opens her eyes, she first notices the stuffed toy in the corner, a foal.
She follows the curtain to the floor, attached as though a stage once more, and she tries to heal.
Her thoughts portray her feelings and from there she curls into a ball and hugs her knees,
Because no more tears can stream. Emptiness is new to her, in all aspects of the word.
Something is missing from her world.
Someone is missing from this globe.
And there's nothing she can do to get them back.
Not if the world depended on it.
The curtains are closed and trail on the floor, adjoined as though an unlit stage
And she sits as though hypnotised, watching the wall to see if anything goes.
She wants to close her eyes and imagine that the curtains will open without aid,
An act will start and she'll smile once more.
She wishes for the best, for the past and mostly for the un-becoming.
The curtains are opened and the lights are bright, applause fills the room, the lead scans the isles.
She closes her eyes and watches the scene before her unfold, the characters, they know.
Knocked back from her feet, sat down for once, taking a break from the false smiles,
To notice the things she never thought would actually show.
Of course she used to cry over this every night before sleep.
Hoping that everything would be okay with every fall.
Dancing with all the passion she can find in her heart, to find the key to unlock the cage.
“Just because we can't do it the way we planned.” she sang out, not a hint of emotion held.
As she stands from her carefully structured ball on the stage,
She reaches upwards, colours start to swirl and enfold her in a different world.
And suddenly she crumples, the tall and elegant stance becomes no more than a heap,
A heap of black and white on the floor.
The scene changes and she's sat in a field, the breeze blows her hair,
And dries the tears that fall freely from her face,
The paths engraved onto her cheeks and she makes no effort to wipe them from there.
The yellow flower in her auburn hair spreads it's pollen from it's base.
The colour of her dress, a royal blue, seems like the sea, moved with the wind,
The blue on the green of the grass mixes and once again she travels without a thought to move her.
Her expression changes to nothing but a face, as delicate as a china doll.
Never does she smile any longer, not the pressure of a thousand needles could make her feel.
She reflects on the images and opens her eyes, she first notices the stuffed toy in the corner, a foal.
She follows the curtain to the floor, attached as though a stage once more, and she tries to heal.
Her thoughts portray her feelings and from there she curls into a ball and hugs her knees,
Because no more tears can stream. Emptiness is new to her, in all aspects of the word.
Something is missing from her world.
Someone is missing from this globe.
And there's nothing she can do to get them back.
Not if the world depended on it.