Pandora's Box, Unleashed, Lucia Roberts [the gingerbread man read aloud TXT] 📗

you won't die,

as all the pain renders your body helpless.

Let the leaves comfort you with quiet whispering

as your now hollow sobs grow quiet.

Let your screams blow 'way with the breeze

so when you wake at dawn

you can smile

and everyone will buy it.

Burn This Letter If

Burn this letter if:

you know me no longer,

if you think that I'm unsure,

if you never think of me at night,

or think you're not the only one

in my range of sight.

 

Burn this letter if:

you don't believe me any longer,

wish for me to not hold on so tight,

wish for me to let you go

even if it takes all my might.

 

Burn this letter if:

my little habits annoy you now,

you always want to start some fight,

if you cant stand that i call you every day,

if you pray "I love you"

is a phrase

you never again wish to hear me say.

Remembering Flight

Walking the misty path,

feeling the tiniest droplets hit my face.

Looking up to the top of the pines;

wanting to stretch my wings in the open space.

 

I felt a twist of nostalgia

from somewhere underneath my skin.

I remembered how it felt.

Is longing for that feeling such a sin?

 

Why this guilt?

Why is this feeling so strong?

This powerful urge from time ago

has never made me question myself this long.

 

To feel my wings streching

and the wind that lifts me high:

a joy I haven't felt this life.

Gods, I love to fly.

Haunted Hallways

 

Spirits that sing the moans of the mourning

linger and echo down the abandoned halls.

The darkness settled upon this place

The moment the first doomed patient entered;

yet the fluorescents still beam

and the living still enter.

 

It’s no wonder the auras of such places

live on long past the time when the building crumbles;

the amount of saddening and overly joyous moments

are so strong that they leave their remnants behind.

Such beings attach themselves to the place

that they felt the strongest.

 

Ghosts of time and emotion will forever linger here

in the hallways between life and death.

The saviors in scrubs will be their guides

in the Purgatory On Earth;

the mess of haunted hallways.

Standing by the baby's crib - card version

 

Google eyed sewn characters

ferocious yet somehow cute,

spin clockwise dancing;

to an ancient melody.

 

A song that I once knew

now twirls around me

in an entrancing mother's warmth;

that claims the body to it's beauty.

 

Waiting for that little creature,

that innocent, loving, needing thing

with anxious, apprenhensive joy.

Worry not;

your bundle of joy will arrive soon enough!

Dread the Dream or the Waking from the Dream?

 

Past

My past keeps haunting.

The voices keep raving.

They have lust, fire, regret,

repentance in their craving.

They whisper and linger

The wait and caress

my dreams with cold fingers.

Hands of ice and sometimes fire,

they toy with my ever waking desires

and laugh as I die or enjoy my wake.

No matter what I’m at their mercy,

no chance for revenge

for when I'm asleep it’s their world; not mine.

I beg and pleed,

do all but kiss their feet;

for they feed my confusion.

I know not if I cry for what was past

or if I cry for what I know is to come

or if I cry of habit forlorn.

I know not if I want what was,

or if I dread waking because even though it hurts

it's better than what I have before me when I'm awoke.

I know not what revenge my mind pursues

or if it’s just my aching heart let loose;

but ither way I feel dead once again.

Usless,

tired,

un-wanted.

My past has killed me both in life and dreams

in past and future,

in love and in hate,

in breath and in death.

The Raven and the Porch Swing

 

He flew away at once he saw me

And went hopping tree to tree.

All the while I stood watch.

The Raven being Freedom

And the porch swing being Me.

Swinging and swaying back and forth

in the image of uncertainty.

He now sits in a tree

The colour of the hair and blood of Me.

Turning Back on They Who Made Me

 

The wind whispers and whimpers

In remoursful moans

As I turn my face :Shamefully, regretfully,

From the Moon.

I wonder if I dare look back

At my true love

From over my shoulder

As I walk into the consuming grey.

“You can come back ” it calls.

But His cries fall on covered ears.

His tears hurt me

And are all I feel

As I cup them in my hands.

 

I see my reflection

But not the face of the person there.

I see two beings fighting

To be prevelent,

To be whole.

Both wrong

And both at fault :But one moreso.

As to who will win, I know not.

For if she wins I will not remember.

And if win,

Well,I don’t know.

But I do know

That He cries for me.

Unsure

 

Humbly I fall

In line beside you.

Distantly my mind

Is all around you.

Distinctly my eyes

Are all inside you.

Seperately my body

Calls in longing to you.

Desperately my heart

Yearns and begs for you.

Uncontrollably my hand

Reaches out for you.

Unknowlingly I

Have been waiting for you.

The one thing I’m sure of,

Though I know you not,

Is that I’ve loved you all along.

The Unseen One

 

As I see replies

Typed upon the white

My heart flutters

And my mind starts to fight.

 

The rationale of this dream of ours

Is quite uncanny and strange

But because of you my thoughts

Have quite expanded in type and range.

 

We’ve never met before

But I can feel you through the screen

I’m hoping you’re for real

And that every word you mean.

 

I have this longing for you

That I can not explain.

I hope I have your heart as well

Or else mine will fill with pain.

Oh Unseen Man of Mine,

I’ll exchange you words of merry.

Walk this madness with me

And I’ll be your Little Faerie.