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The Last Sheet of Paper
Heatherj43
Posts: 1,254
(questions, comments, suggestions ~ always welcomed)
The last sheet of paper,
in a little journal book,
sits anticipating,
for its own special verse.
All of the other pages
have words that play on them.
This last sheet of paper
waits to be the final gem.
She thinks she's last on purpose
to be a work of art.
She sits stark and naked
awaiting for that part.
At last the writer gets to her
and stares down at her face,
with gentleness and kindness
the pen gets put in place.
Yet the words spill out so slowly,
and many get crossed out,
the page feels disappointed
and she begins to pout.
She sings to the writer
in a mournful way...
of how she's waited all this time
for words on her to play.
But this writer has used up
all his words and energy,
and the pen and the paper
have now become enemies.
No longer stark and naked.
No longer white and crisp.
The writer pulls the page out
and tosses her away.
The last sheet of paper,
in a little journal book,
sits anticipating,
for its own special verse.
All of the other pages
have words that play on them.
This last sheet of paper
waits to be the final gem.
She thinks she's last on purpose
to be a work of art.
She sits stark and naked
awaiting for that part.
At last the writer gets to her
and stares down at her face,
with gentleness and kindness
the pen gets put in place.
Yet the words spill out so slowly,
and many get crossed out,
the page feels disappointed
and she begins to pout.
She sings to the writer
in a mournful way...
of how she's waited all this time
for words on her to play.
But this writer has used up
all his words and energy,
and the pen and the paper
have now become enemies.
No longer stark and naked.
No longer white and crisp.
The writer pulls the page out
and tosses her away.
Save room for dessert!
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who you really are.
You wanted me to validate
the you behind the scars.
You told your darkest secrets.
You cried the saddest tears.
You begged for me to listen
about the pain of all those years.
I saw the child within you.
I felt your innocent heart.
I heard you try to tell me
just to love you from the start.
(Dedicated to all of those who have suffered from abuse)
deep in my soul,
beliefs are all shattered,
no truths to behold.
My body's in tremors.
My mind in despair.
My heart is broken
and I'm suddenly aware...
that nobody cares
about you or me.
Nobody cares,
they turn their heads to not see.
They tell themselves stories
to make it all right,
while I crumble beneath them,
unable to fight.
They carry the guilt
beneath a gentle face.
Deep down they know
this was caused by their haste.
Now their lives will go on,
as if nothing was done,
but deep in their nightmares
I hold the gun.