Once upon a time, there was a young girl
With skin paler then the moon
That contrasted brightly with her dark hair and eyes
Who thought the world had turned against her completely

She hid in her room, surrounded by books
Hiding in the words, between the pages
In lands far away
Where the cruel people of this world couldn't reach her.

The days were bright with sunlight
Which only added to her loneliness
For she couldn't play with the others outside
Her skin condition didn't allow for that

Every time she trusted someone, they ended up turning away from her
Breaking her down even more
Until, at last, she surrendered to the fact that she was beyond repair.
And so she hid, inside her books, inside her room, for years..

When she had finally given up all hope of ever being actually accepted by any part of humanity.
Suddenly a miracle appeared before her.
His hair was a deep brown, like her own, and soft to the touch.
His arms warm and safe
Blue eyes looked intensely into her own, and she turned away, afraid he might see through her disguise, afraid he might notice her broken state.

It didn't work.
His eyes saw right into her soul
But instead of running, even though she bore her fragmented soul to him
He picked her up and held the broken girl to his chest

His voice was security, his hold was safety, and his love was all she required to live
And she realized that maybe, somehow, everything would be alright
and that this world could hold more for her
Than just the worlds of books and words and pages

And so, hand in his, she stepped out into the world

...And she hasn't looked back.
Unknown "Megeera" Loyal - 16 years, 1 month, 15 days ago

Added pictures to my profile..
Unknown "Megeera" Loyal - 16 years, 2 months, 22 days ago

If you like my wings, give a thumbs up!
Unknown "Megeera" Loyal - 16 years, 3 months, 17 days ago

This is a poem I wrote quite a while ago.. but it's one of my favorites among my own work in that I actually like how it turned out..

Brass people play broken pianos
cracked keys turn to dust
and pigeons with metal wings
shit on cars made entirely of plastic.

Forty seconds in a minute
thirty hours in a day
and twenty days until I'm shot.

Manufactured mannequins
roam streets late at night
begging for ten cents
buy themselves another can of oil

Forty seconds in a minute
thirty hours in a day
and ten days until I'm shot.

Metal people in glass houses
work around the clock
just so fat-filled flesh-sacks
can have their breakfast of corrugated cardboard sludge.

Forty seconds in a minute
thirty hours in a day
and one day until I'm shot.

Cellophane trees with saran wrap leaves
tower tall above the pop bottle flowers
that line the city streets
passed by un-noticed

As am I, a plastic being
faceless to the world
collapsed on the rubber sidewalk
the movator continues turning.

Forty seconds in a minute
thirty hours in a day
motor oil drips from empty eye socket.

Batteries don't last forever.
Unknown "Megeera" Loyal - 16 years, 3 months, 17 days ago