Forever 17

A suicide, in the eyes of a bystander.

Gradient hair of sun flares 

And skin of fitted sheets. 

Eyes of nature’s home

And the voice of silk. 

She wore satin from birth,

Ate gold to her end,

And breathed wisps of life. 

Perfect be on her looks, 

She was one on top and top of all. 

But words sunk into her fragile body, 

Penetrating so were the sharp twisted phrases. 

Gelatin was her skin on days of sorrow. 

Now, her hair locks to laces. 

Tears of truth scarred the fitted sheets, 

And shimmered on the home of humanity. 

Sandpaper sounds, 

Cheap wool layered down and up, 

With only coal left to feast. 

Sighs of living brought nearer, 

A loop to seal the deal. 

For once done, will she not be seen. 

She stood, then hung. 

Forever 17.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. Please comment or review anything. Any suggestions are welcomed.