Narrative

Like a Flower

She was weak in the mornings,

Neck bent and eyes downcast

As the radio played throwbacks,

Fetid breath and rough hands

Dark brands, wide and deep,

Back bent and eyes bruised,

Yellow teeth and Old ripped up photos

That reminded her of her childhood.

As she rocked slowly to sleep,

Woken by creaks and footsteps.

But as the tv flickered on

And a groan followed by a snore

Added to the beautiful harmony

That meant the promise of night.

She became strong.

Fed solely on moonlight,

She bloomed, a night flower

That spreads its petals becomingly,

Strong and deadly she was a superhero

That flew through the city,

Keen eyes protective because

The cycle of dread never followed.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s