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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2035292-Thirty-One-Years-Ago
Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2035292
Well, it's a shot at poetry. I'm not a poet, but I try.

Thirty one years ago,
existence greeted her.
But love was only meant for one,
from the woman that conceived.
Was it life she was given?
Or existence with no purpose?
That is the deepest - darkest prison.
A life that shouldn't be.

Twenty five years ago,
deeper pain had come.
The monsters took the innocence,
no one knew she had.
Though she didn't understand,
pain in that was what she was gifted.
No one really gave a damn,
not for the girl that merely existed...
She wasn't in the plan.

And no one else would know,
how deeply it had grown in her.
Slashing and banging at her soul,
a soul that wasn't meant for her,
But a pain that bled it well.
Her head hung low,
her mouth closed shut.
The heart in her barely beat,
with a pain that spilled a red so deep.
And still, she didn't understand.

Twenty years ago,
her fear was growing deep.
She almost died that year,
the rubble let her sleep.
But still she wasn't seen,
in all of the chaotic fear.
Pain was not important,
because existence wasn't life.

She swallowed the pain and left it there,
to fade and surely die.
So she sat there in the dark,
only in existence...
Silenced by her fears and pains,
she learned to accept her existence...
Even in her shame.
Still...She couldn't understand.

Many years went by,
her silence and fears called shy.
About ten years ago,
she thought she'd found her life.
A best friend that would see her there,
standing at his side.
A child she was given,
a Grace she held with pride.

That could have been the upside,
making life a little less fake.
Darkness flew in real fast,
taking him in stride.
He was never meant for her...
Her life was never hers.
You've never known a pain,
as deep as hers and mine.
Life was never meant for her...
A fluke in the great design.

I found my soul today,
on a trip deep inside.
It's crouching in the darkest corner,
afraid to make a sound.
If I leave it there to hide,
the Grace will still be mine.
Existence has no purpose,
and that...
That was my greatest crime.

© Copyright 2015 Elle Maeson Hughes (ellemaeson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2035292-Thirty-One-Years-Ago