There is proof that she existed
Photographs stained
With cigarette smoke
And housefire smoke
Yellowed by the days passed
Of many decades
But her eyes tell another story
One that the aged paper alone
Could never
Adequately convey
Hers were the glassy eyes
Of a porcelain doll
Painted on innocence
Childlike maybe
At first glance
But lacking the true depth
Of the purity of childhood
Something took that away
And a haunted child stares out
Across the years
From that stiff photo paper
There's proof that she existed
But where does her soul linger now?
Has her haunting, fixated stare
Been remedied yet with the love
That no one had to give her?
Have her cruel captors
Made her as cold and unfeeling
As they were?
Has she learned the subtle art
Of manipulation
From her caregivers?
Can she twist any soul
At whim
Around her little finger?
Has she become as sociopathic
As twisted
As evil
As her overseers hoped
She'd become?
I wouldn't know
All I have is this photograph
This proof that she existed
But I haven't seen her in years
I haven't felt her claws in my chest
Holding me where she wants me
For quite some time now
I don't know what she's become
And I don't want to know
About the Creator
A. R. Ambrosi
I like to write, if that makes me a writer, then rock on!
I started writing as a child because I ran out of stuff to read. So, I only write stuff that I like. If you like it too, awesome! Enjoy! ^_^
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