Cassandra Warfield
Poetry
Poetry
The Story Untold
Those Once Upon a Time’s
whispered in the moments of sleep,
to the princess of perfection.
A woman with a slim waist,
skin as fair as porcelain,
the face of pride and beauty.
What you don’t see are those torn out pages,
the story of how she starved herself
for that perfect image.
A porcelain doll broken and cracked,
hidden by rose red lips
curled up in a practiced smile.
Hidden in the far tower,
the empty halls scream out to her.
Insanity creeping at the edge of her mind.
Not needing to be saved from the isolation,
to be saved from herself.
The mirror image looking back at her.
The world looks in and now,
once again she becomes someone she does not recognize.
Audio
The Wind
Wind is but a song,
dandelions dancing to an invisible beat,
grass singing to a lullaby not heard,
water rippling like a melody blue silk river,
blowing lovely locks of hair like ocean waves.
Listen closely to hear the orchestra play,
music to only those who find the beauty.
The wind carries many stories in song
passing by like it's not meant for us to hear.
Leaves swirling, crunching in wind
you may hear wind but it is more.
The whisper of the wind from the lips of nature.
Wind is but a song,
trees swaying to the honey soaked notes,
birds sing along to the tune,
clouds moving where the music takes them,
music to my ears.
Playing its song every time it blows,
not only for me to hear
the world should play to the beat.
Wind is but a song.
