She knew their beauty
The precious power these creatures held
Versatile and unique
Fearsome dragons
Delicate fairies
Innocent and bold
They are superior
She was always enchanted
But she suppressed herself.
Onto the smooth and steady course of the allegiance she cast over herself
Haunted by her own conjuring thoughts
A mysterious flame burnt her soul
A puzzle she was too afraid to solve
Fearing the image of herself
How would others paint her
She’s known all along
This discovery is not new
It has been buried and hidden
Only now dug up
Never thought to question
Already familiar with the answer
But soon her fear converted to pride
A pride to which she held onto as a part of her identity
A piece of the puzzle her soul had long hungered for
Her closet was free of the skeleton
Who once roamed the space
These enchanting, majestic beings.
She was one of them
You see her now
She keeps her mouth shut
Her eyes gazing onward
Ears sitting on each of her sides
She sits with posture and poise
Dressed in fabric forced to look modest
Her face is painted
Body decorated with gold
Whilst her hair lay brushed with its carmel glow
She looks clean
She looks nice
She looks boring
You see her there
But do you really see her?
My lips are closed, for I have nothing to say
But when I want to be heard
I will speak with intent and I will speak loud
My eyes gaze upon whatever I find beautiful or worth looking at
My attention goes where I direct it
My ears listen intently as I observe, I hear gossip, tales, and information worth my knowledge
I sit comfortably on my throne
Moving about as I wish
With grace and power
I am dressed in clothing
Insulting the public eye
Feeling divine in my own
I wear it with pride and artistry
My eyes bare the weight of the paint we apply to enhance our beauty, not to hide it
But, tomorrow my face will be bare
I shall walk the earth with naked, raw, beautiful skin
Cold, ice decorates my ears, neck, and wrist
I feel confident
I feel bold
Sometimes I like it
Sometimes I don’t
My hair has been cleansed and softened to the root
It is silky and fair to look at
But it isn’t always a sight
Most days it hangs dead from my head
Like the leaves of a weeping willow
Based on my appearance you may think I act a certain way
I am kind
I am powerful
I am strong
I am queer
What you notice on the outside is just a mirage, of an image drawn in your own mind
You won’t really take into account who you truly think I am
You’ll dawn upon my beauty, and the treasures I display
Thinking about what person I may be
You make your assumptions and never really care
But there is a mystery within
When you look at someone
Do you ever stop to wonder
What music makes them dance?
Where do they sleep?
Are they a kindred spirit?
Or are they a creep?
Perhaps next time you pass by
A raw human like yourself
Think of what makes them human
Instead of a prize to be put on a shelf
No matter the fabric or jewelry my body may hold
It is never that which tells my story
For I am a woman and I am overlooked
But alas I shall go on living a lie, for you stopped listening when I muttered hi.
About the Creator
Makenna Bolton
Hi! My name is Makenna Bolton, I am 20 years old. I grew up in Wisconsin and in June I graduated from the American Musical and Dramatic Academy in LA; with an Associates in Dance and Theatre. As well as writing, I love acting, and dancing.
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I wish for death
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window; into the room where they kept her. Two curious campers wandered through the woods. It was eerily silent, they didn’t hear a single animal, neither the wind nor the leaves rustling together. You could almost hear the blood pumping in their veins. Clouds formed a dark canvas above them, but there was no rain. They continued on, their breathing becoming weak as they stumbled upon the cabin. The only sign of life was the burning candle, and their curiosity gripped tightly and guided them into the cabin. But, when they entered, it did not look abandoned at all. The old cabin was fresh, and warm, as if someone has been living here all this time. They admired the vintage beauty held in the walls, furniture and the art; eventually being drawn into the room with the candle. A girl named Lanira once lived in the cabin with her family, however, Lanira’s family always found her to be quite odd. The family was always very weary around her, and they always seemed to get a twisted, gross feeling around her. Lanira would look out her window and stare for hours upon end. Everyday her family found her stiff, frozen, blankly staring out that window. One night a candle mysteriously appeared at the sill of Lanira’s window, and it was already burning. The candle enchanted the cabin and burned for days and days, yet the wax never shed a tear, no liquid melting residue; it stood strong, just as it had when it first appeared. Then, one night as the candle was burning, the earth stood still. There was no wind, no sound, and no breath filled the air. The next day, the earth resumed its lively rotation, but the family was gone, all but Lanira. Who still watched through the window, only now the flame was dead and the candle sat cold. Years past and eventually Lanira died in that room, watching as her reflection closed its eyes for the last time. The campers stepped into the Lanira’s room and stared at the candle burning in the window. They began trembling, feeling a disturbing presence that made them ill. They dragged themselves toward the candle still haunted by its enchanting flame, and as the neared it, it began to flicker, and the room became cold. One of the campers reached out and tried to touch the candle before the other stopped him. All of a sudden voices crowded their minds, screams of terror, cries for help, and they couldn’t move. They were paralyzed with this force consuming them from the inside. They began to go insane and in that moment they wanted nothing more than death to come and end their suffering minds. But they had a fate coming, far worse than death. The camper who tried to touch the candle before had had enough of this psychotic reign, wondering what he could do to end this horror he had never endured; he thought if there was no candle then there would be no scare. He slowly and painfully turned his head, with all hope and strength, blew out the candle, and they were gone. Just like that, the earth had resumed life, the wind blew, the sun shone, but not a single trace of the campers found. The end. You may be wondering, what happened? Where did the campers go? What is this candle? Who exactly is Lanira? Well, my friends, you shall get your answers soon. Oh, and I forgot to introduce myself, my name is Lanira. Goodbye.
By Makenna Bolton2 years ago in Horror
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