Stuck.
Should she suffer? Save souls?
Somewhere, someone smiles.
Somehow, still standing, she speaks.
Softly,
Soon stout-hearted, stentorian.
Silence surrounding, stormy skies slowly sunny, suddenly she sees,
Somebody shouts, somebody screams: stories scare.
She survived.
Someday she shall stand serene.
About the Creator
Scarlett Bird
"But if the story's over, why am I still writing pages?"
-Taylor Swift
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More stories from Scarlett Bird and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart5 days ago in Fiction
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