A room, dark as night
Dark doors, slammed shut.
Dark windows cracked and shattered,
Dark sheets that smell of yew.
A dark lady, her companions dark thoughts.
Of wilted flowers and shriveled fruits, she wrote,
Of crushed hope and of broken souls.
Beside a lamp, she wrote.
Her tresses, wild and unruly.
Twisted freedom plagued her mind
Twisted bonds and twisted ropes,
That bled her writhing arms.
Thorns that dug into her neck,
And that pierced her soul.
In pain she found solace, it became her nectar.
Wrenched away from home and from any humanity
She sat by the light,
Writing, her mane flowing like a waterfall.
In Those moments, filled with darkness
She found her darkened heart.
It bled by the second,
For an estranged love,
For a smashed pride.
It bled onto the tattered gown,
Onto the silk, that once was pristine.
It bled for the pain she saw,
For things that might have been.
For smashed dreams.
Bound in chains,
Bound in shackles she wrote
Her skin raw and fingers bleeding.
She found solace.
In broken dreams and crushed hopes
She found her peace.
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