Poetry

The Playground

By Wallace - 16 January 08

On the playground swing, feet in the air
She's humming softly, flowing black hair
No other children play here today
Almost dark as the sky's color fades away

It's been a long day, too long, scary
No friends besides imaginary
To tell her secrets to
Why can't she just stay here forever
Floating on the wind, doing whatever
Without pain, without fear

Her head feels heavy

Singing with eyes closed, sway back, sway forth
She wants to sleep here, but can't of course
Where can she go when she can't go home
When she's sad and lonely and wholly alone

It's been the worst day of her short life
Worse than nightmares or screaming each night
What more can she do now
Who can she turn to without any friend
No-one to help her, just lies, pretend
All empty in the end

She wishes she were a princess
She wishes she were a goddess
(but she does know she can't ever be one)
She wishes she were an actress
(but she knows she won't be pretty enough)
She wishes she weren't even here

It's been a long day, too long, scary
No friends besides imaginary
Who can listen to her
Hear the thoughts she hides from the rest
Comfort with words of light, happiness
Help her create stories
Help her create stories

Help her escape