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Where fairytales go to die

Naive little girl

By Taylor WardPublished about a year ago 1 min read
It only existed in my mind

In the dim glow of youthful dreams,

where fairytales spun their silken threads,

I reached out with hands stretched wide,

cradling an illusion of eternal love.

My heart was an open book,

pages brimming with the ink of hope,

yet the story was a dark descent,

tainted by the corrosive touch of betrayal.

The lover, a ghost of desire,

moved through my life with a hollow grace,

his touch a wraith-like whisper,

more shadows than substance.

Infidelity wove its venomous strands,

a web of lies and manipulation,

ensnaring the delicate wings

of a butterfly that was meant to be our family.

As the wings were crushed beneath

the weight of deceit and false promises,

the rot began its insidious march

through the corridors of my soul.

My spirit, once vibrant, became a decaying relic,

a monument to broken dreams and shattered trust.

When the veil of illusion was torn asunder,

I felt the blood drain from my face,

a crimson testament to the collapse

of a fairytale turned nightmare.

The echo of shattered hope reverberates,

a mournful dirge in the empty spaces

where love was promised but never truly lived.

Free Versesad poetrysurreal poetry

About the Creator

Taylor Ward

From a small town, I find joy and grace in my trauma and difficulties. My life, shaped by loss and adversity, fuels my creativity. Each piece written over period in my life, one unlike the last. These words sometimes my only emotion.

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Comments (2)

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  • Esala Gunathilakeabout a year ago

    I learned a couple of new words. Thanks for sharing it.

  • Cindy Calderabout a year ago

    "When the veil of illusion was torn asunder, I felt the blood drain from my face, a crimson testament to the collapse of a fairytale turned nightmare." Youthful innocence faded, turning to the reality found in gaining wisdom with aging. What a powerful poem.

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