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, 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 beats upon there blackened backs.
When those you knew sat with dead eyes
watching the t.v, dismissing your every word
you painted rainbows around there feet.
Afraid of breaking their gaze you placed
your paintings under the picture of nanna
she'd always smile, always.
only when the curtains were tugged tight
and you found yourself drowning in the
darkness did you allow yourself to cry.
Until the passing cars brought about
dancing angels on your bedroom walls
and when the prize of sleep eventually
came you entered the world of white.
Not Long Left
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/angels-of-the-violent-night-2/
