Fingers

A mop of brown tumbles down And parts under her chin Being distraught she frolics not Nor lets the sunlight in Facing the wall her instincts call to flinch at false alarm Reaching up her hands cup Her face from any harm Her grimace hides While deep inside a muffled guarded hall But eyes can tell until the shell drops down the heavy wall To not be proud She wont allow her vocals to be heard She speaks her mind from gestures kind without saying a word To keep her peace she makes hands sleep behind her fragile shell So not to drift over the cliff that falls into pains well She longs to run Following a sun That does not ever fade To become a child Her mind grows wild And lets fingers promenade The hands begin To reel and spin The saga of her thoughts Once out of sight, they now take flight to speak of lessons taught Her childhood strays as fingers play and live her hearts desire While in her eyes the struggle lies to remove them from her fire Facades wont keep when reality sleeps so closely to the game She turns aside knowing how pride shows bruises of her shame Her childhood safe Behind the gate Of her soundless magic world Abuse has claimed All but her name And fingers that are unfurled Written September 13th, 2001 © on Sep 13 2001 08:54 AM PST   0 • 1