A River of Poetry

Please take into account that I am from NZ and we spell some words slightly differently

The Corner of the Room

In the corner of the room, if you look hard enough, you will find a small, frail girl, facing the bare, grey wall.
She is desperate to escape. Her shadow grows larger then shrinks back to nothing as she rocks herself, every night, to sleep. If you look away, she’ll come out to play. Don’t look back, she’ll attack. Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to stare? She hides her dull face, like the moon in the day. When the shadows dance with her, she’ll make you her prey.
When she was younger, and the skies were not grey, her mother gave her a balloon. On that bright sunny day, she was not sad as her balloon was yellow and full of air. She was happy and joyful, and springing to life were the creatures drawn on the pavement in white. They danced for a while then the balloon went pop and the creatures went back to their spots. She cried for her mother who put her to bed.
In the corner of the room, if you look hard enough, you will find a small, frail girl, facing the bare, grey wall. The girl in the corner never leaves the room. She picks on poor people and brings them their doom. Don’t look at her, don’t tell her to come out, she will claw at your eyes and scratch at your skull. Be surprised if she turns her face and gives you a smile with eyes so bright. She will drive you insane when you can’t sleep at night.
This girl is now a child, but once was a baby. Her mother never cared for the young lady. She just told her to stand up straight and not to play with fire. The baby would never cry, in fear of her mother. She would never giggle or smile, she had no reason; her mother just told her not to grin like an idiot. She cried for her mother who put her to bed.
In the corner of the room, if you look hard enough, you will find a small, frail girl, facing the bare, grey wall. Don’t cry, don’t scream, don’t weep. She’ll count you as weak. Don’t try and be her friend, she will mess with your head and you’ll be locked up in here instead. Do not what is right, but what is said. “You wore the scent of my future, your lips tasted like moon light and spring”.
Who would have known someone once so innocent and sweet would turn to her mother and choose defeat. She was damaged. She was broken. She was forgotten. She was replaced. She was well behaved, without any treat. She kills her feelings and drowns her sorrow. She looks ahead to the day she dies. She could never sleep, especially when she cried for her mother who put her to bed.
Singing in the garden, singing in the rain. Anything to distract her from the pain. Can’t you see she’s crying? Can’t you tell she’s dying? Her feet were planted firmly on the ground, her head way up up in the clouds. She wished to live her life like this. But she was not Alice, and this was far from wonderland.
In the corner of the room, if you look hard enough, you will find a small, frail girl, facing the bare, grey wall. It was them against her, now it’s her against you. She’ll slit your throat, your face will go blue. They were no kind to her, she’ll be no kind to you. Breathlessness is her only escape, she has no chances left to change her fate.
Her head was turning from surface to surface looking for a way out. She let out a laugh and smiled. Her glistening eyes brightened the room for a single second, then went back to crying. She lay down her head. No one can hurt you now my dear, and there she fell asleep forever.
In the corner of the room, if you look hard enough, you will find a small, frail girl facing the bare, grey wall.

Quote by Anita Krizzan