A Maiden Dressed in Black (She Swears She Is Not Demonic, but They Keep Aggravating Her)

There she goes.

She locks her gaze among the fog.

“You… You are not the one.”

“Yours… Yours will not become…” She repeats, “Shall not become.”

It’s with the shouting of “used” that her foot slips over the edge of a four hundred foot drop.

Her black dress is stained.

Her eyes can hide no anguish. Oh, the pain!

The crystal blue eyes glow beyond the blackness of her hair.

Her mind has convinced her that what was done wasn’t fair.

She wants to enjoy her life.

“Allow me to bask in strife.”

There she stands.

She is at the climax of the cross.

She stands with each foot edging off.

“This is not the end,”

Come the sharp words from a once close friend.

Her embroidered dress is stained.

Her eyes are as blue as the rain.

The day passes to a night as black as her hair.

Only one man stands, looking up there.

“I just want to feel alive!”

“Then come to the earth one last time!”

Her voice is shrouded by the pain.

She’s forgotten everything besides her name.

“I stand at the tip of a cathedral

I’m sick of an eternal war.

I can no longer take it anymore.

So I say my mind is sore.

Where art thou?

Thou art here, but how?

I am a simple woman in black.

I have a dangerous day in yore

And it is one that I can relive no more.

I shall pacify myself as I fall,

Because I am the one who ends it all.

I am so complicated

But finally my mentality is breaking…

Exit this blurry existence

After I fall five hundred cubits.”

Reviews

[MsJewel]

I find it difficult to tell a story within a poem - You have done this so well. You are quite a storyteller - your images so very vivid. An outstanding poem and a delight to read!

:) Julie