You was a child, a child to it all that's why
even when in the thick of the storm you
could do nothing but smile, and as hate
met hate and created pain, your green
eyes followed the flight of the butterfly.
when pots and pans came crashing
across the floor, you gathered them and
played a beat on there black backs.
When those you knew sat with dead eyes
watching t.v, dismissing your every word
you painted rainbows around there feet.
Afraid to break there gaze, you placed
your painting under the picture of Nanna
she always smiled, always.
Only when the curtains were drawn and
you found yourself drowning in darkness
did you allow yourself to cry,
Until the passing cars brought out dancing
angels on your bedroom wall, and when
sleep came you journed into the white.
Not Long Left
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/angels-of-the-violent-night/
