The gray area paints a whimsical canvas,
Or is it vice versa?

My lips keep shooting arrows...
Why should I care?
They're pierced to the wall
Caressed with stick figures of innocence,
And my sword is wielded--
By whom?
A plunge--that's all it takes,
To make their black blood coil in fear,
Skins to whisper a hue of blue.

Those very hands which kept me intact,
'Under the delusion of mirthful raindrops
And oblivious to the intentions
Concluding with the thunder I battle now',
Are skinned alive by layers of torture
skimming just the surface.

Every night my tears ran the crimson river
For this(!) distorted mishap my family shaped,
And now do they, the tears,
Bare the fading light of hope,
And drown their facade of love,
With the remaining strength
of all those broken steps my feet missed.
Alone, manipulated, ignored.

The gray area paints a whimsical canvas,
Or is it vice versa?

Lies are sold for more than a penny,
Belief is bought for less than a cent,
And the dawn bestows the luxury of drugs,
In which I'm rolled about, every now and then,
Dressed to the core of my delusional heart,
Whose barriers hold onto your false romance
And caress your 'bastard's' cunning smile.

Till the light of dusk scours my intoxication,
Reveals the amorous words
exchanged between them behind.
And my eyes mourn,
Awaiting the arrival
of the moon with a veil,
To uncloak your ruse;
Borrow the veil for
Covering,
Mending,
Disguising
an impaled heart of mine,
Emerge scathed, but victorious in the moonlight.
Loveless, Caged, Forgotten.

By: Shaily.K

Footnote: There are two versions--one is of the family who betrayed the OC, never accepted her in the family, led her to feel unworthy. And when she was finally free from them, she jumped into the trap of a false lover. All the bad things in one lifetime!

This poem is also published for the WP poetry monthly contest 'April is Bright'.