Can you hear that sound?
Shrieking like an injured hound,
Mocking the woman who finds herself bound,
This is why she will never be found.
They stare and weep in awe of her,
She is crazed and rambles in words that blur,
Misery a friend that wraps around her like a fur,
She will know no happiness even when her death occurs
The company she seeks can never exist,
The man she wants will never persist,
She is alone in this sea of mist,
Never to unlock his hard handled fist.
She will go insane and drift away,
They will feel her pain and go a different way,
She will bear her cross and go astray,
This is a loss that will make them pray.
Can you not hear that?
A sound so deep it makes the air weep,
She is at a crossroad beyond willows creek,
Crying her eyes out for death’s sweet kiss.
I stand up and sight her,
Is it a dream or is she really by a stream,
I see her hands are curled up in blood,
I listen for her heart but palpitations I do not hear.
Streaks of dried tears trail her ruddy cheeks,
She speaks not, for her lips are sealed,
She looks so rigid by the flowing water,
For the knees on which she has knelt does not shake.
Her skin so pale it tells another tale,
Her hair so thick that the locks do not stray,
Her pose so strained and yet fragile she remains,
Her clothes withered and torn like feathers.
Why does this once olive-skinned woman not talk,
Why is it she does not move,
Closer I go to give her a dodge,
And there in her hands I sight her bleeding and once beating heart.