Doll

Her eyes show no life
but still sparkle in abhor
as bleak as her painted smile,
the doll lay broken on the floor.

Her owner lay by
dark hair covering her face,
beautiful curls she bore
tied back with lace
she sat close to fear
with a pen in her hand,
she looked out the window
at a sight she could not stand.

The sun burned in the sky
leaves rustled in the air
although she could enjoy that light
she simply didn't care.

Her pen etched along the paper
forming words long since delayed
words that rang true
no matter how frayed.
She saw things as they were
(and what they would always be)
she wrote about seeing
through the other side of eternity.

Soon the chamber would break open
for that girl to depart,
to follow those before her;
becoming a stranger to the start
her death hung on to silence
long before her death was done,
the only voice she left behind
was that declaring the sound of the gun.

The single witness to her letter
still lay in pieces on the floor,
covering up truth with glass,
leaving it lost forevermore.