Faceless Girl
© Surazeus
2016 11 24
Gray leaves swirl around the young faceless girl
who walks nowhere along straight signless streets
past ten thousand numberless homes with doors
locked tight against the darkness of despair.
Pausing where dead tree breaks her cement heart,
young girl looks at window glowing warm gold
that cuts pure square out of darkness and gloom
to watch her family eat a holiday meal.
Stepping close through swirls of sparkling snow flakes,
she touches cold glass that mirrors her face,
blank oval of white in infinite black,
and sees nothing behind the pleasant scene.
Opening the locked door of the white house,
young faceless girl steps in the empty room
where mannequins sit at table of dust
as colorless eyes stare at plates of shadow.
She tries to tell her mother that she hates
this world of illusions, but cannot speak
because her mouth is sewed shut by thin wires
stripped from telephone lines that never sing.
Threads of gray wind streaming from lightless cave
weave two wings that flutter in rotten tree
so she tugs them down and they grasp her shoulders
and she flaps them slow as she rises high.
Young faceless girl wearing torn white lace gown
glides over vast metropolitan maze
and drops apple seeds on roofs of dead homes
where they sprout into vast forest of trees.
Each tree that sprouts from broken skull of hope
bulges egg that reveals round ticking clock
with constellations in circle of eyes
who whisper tales of every soul who lived.
When she appears before me after dawn
I think I see my face reflected clear
in her face, but when I look past her mask
I see her real face and dream her true name.
The young girl with silver eyes and black hair
molds her spirit breath into snow-white raven
who threads our hearts together with her wings
so we dance as one soul by tree of fruit.
© Surazeus
2016 11 24
Gray leaves swirl around the young faceless girl
who walks nowhere along straight signless streets
past ten thousand numberless homes with doors
locked tight against the darkness of despair.
Pausing where dead tree breaks her cement heart,
young girl looks at window glowing warm gold
that cuts pure square out of darkness and gloom
to watch her family eat a holiday meal.
Stepping close through swirls of sparkling snow flakes,
she touches cold glass that mirrors her face,
blank oval of white in infinite black,
and sees nothing behind the pleasant scene.
Opening the locked door of the white house,
young faceless girl steps in the empty room
where mannequins sit at table of dust
as colorless eyes stare at plates of shadow.
She tries to tell her mother that she hates
this world of illusions, but cannot speak
because her mouth is sewed shut by thin wires
stripped from telephone lines that never sing.
Threads of gray wind streaming from lightless cave
weave two wings that flutter in rotten tree
so she tugs them down and they grasp her shoulders
and she flaps them slow as she rises high.
Young faceless girl wearing torn white lace gown
glides over vast metropolitan maze
and drops apple seeds on roofs of dead homes
where they sprout into vast forest of trees.
Each tree that sprouts from broken skull of hope
bulges egg that reveals round ticking clock
with constellations in circle of eyes
who whisper tales of every soul who lived.
When she appears before me after dawn
I think I see my face reflected clear
in her face, but when I look past her mask
I see her real face and dream her true name.
The young girl with silver eyes and black hair
molds her spirit breath into snow-white raven
who threads our hearts together with her wings
so we dance as one soul by tree of fruit.
Quite a tale - thank you
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