Cry Mallory

Mallory was the girl that

Thought her soul lived in

A broken mirror,

Where the cracks wept

Like the children she

Saw on television,

In those commercials

That made her want to

Cry.

 

Mallory was the girl that

Passed the window by—

Her hand holding a rock

That she could not throw

For fear of the shattered

Glass that would fly like

Bullets of her nightmares,

In those ever-fears

That made her want to

Cry.

 

Mallory was the girl that

Held her head up high

In the hallway and

Kept her head low

Inside the dull, smokey

Glow of approaching evening,

Like the reversable sheets

She hid behind as she

Cried.

 

Reviews

[Dressed in Poetry]

So sad. I like this portrait of a girl.