Terribly Real In A Terribly False World
Why she felt so much pain
She wears her pain as a shroud
Never given a chance to miss it,
She uses it to shore up her strength
Her coldness, her hardness elicits.
***
Her pain is second to none, real
She’d be off balance, maybe ill,
Without the constant soul ache
Buried deeply inside her self will.
***
With every beat of her pure heart
Throbbing in time with her pulse,
Drumming and vibrating in tune
Sweet torture, not able to repulse.
***
With every move, she feels fire
Electrically sizzling from top to toe,
Burning, searing, bursts of flame
Her master to which she kowtows.
***
She couldn’t understand, why her
So she learnt to live with the pain,
Gave up looking for a cure, an out
How’d she feel if it was to abstain.
***
I knew why she felt so much pain
Because she is terribly real, pure,
In a terribly false, sadistic world
The reason for her pain, I assure.
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Originally posted on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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