The lady in the window never knew the world outside
The lady in the window never saw the golden sun
Nor the cloud speckled sky.
She never heard the thunder,
Or felt the rain on her skin.
She never saw the birds
Flying with the wind.
The moving metals in the air and road
Were aliens to her.
She pays for her sins within four tall walls
And a window high above with lines across the bow.
She wanted out and so she ran,
Until she found that desolate window
Where the view is a dream,
A nightmare with teeth.
She pays for her sins encased in cement
Where no man on horse can rescue her
And no amount of hair can set her free.
She does not cry, or laugh or move her face.
Her eyes are dead and her heart beats slow.
The lady in the window never knew the world outside,
She cannot taste, or speak or see the bricks.
The lady in the window never knew the world outside,
She pays for her sins and listens to the rhythm
Of the never-ending beat.
This is a short poem by me. Sometimes I like to write, be it random blog posts, short stories or poems like this one. Make of it what you will as every poem, and most written pieces are always open for interpretation.
The lady in the window never saw the golden sun
Nor the cloud speckled sky.
She never heard the thunder,
Or felt the rain on her skin.
She never saw the birds
Flying with the wind.
The moving metals in the air and road
Were aliens to her.
She pays for her sins within four tall walls
And a window high above with lines across the bow.
She wanted out and so she ran,
Until she found that desolate window
Where the view is a dream,
A nightmare with teeth.
She pays for her sins encased in cement
Where no man on horse can rescue her
And no amount of hair can set her free.
She does not cry, or laugh or move her face.
Her eyes are dead and her heart beats slow.
The lady in the window never knew the world outside,
She cannot taste, or speak or see the bricks.
The lady in the window never knew the world outside,
She pays for her sins and listens to the rhythm
Of the never-ending beat.
This is a short poem by me. Sometimes I like to write, be it random blog posts, short stories or poems like this one. Make of it what you will as every poem, and most written pieces are always open for interpretation.