Poetry / Untitled II

She pulled at her shackles

Tore at her scars

Wished she was somewhere

Up in the stars

The scars disappeared

The shackles taken away

And yet she is lost

Every single day

The key to her freedom

She left a life of horror

But her true prison's

Inside her, forevermore

She can run from her "guardian"

She can run however fast

Yet she'll always bear the cross

Of that dark and torturous past

Reviews

September 25, 2008

jadedpoet

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