You Must Be This Dead To Enter

October 29, 2009
By , Pinckney, MI
You can see her thru the window
The rain dancing on the pane.
She sits waiting for her love to come
And take her away.

Though her judgment is clouded,
She knows he will not show.
But that voice in the back of her head
Tells her to wait.
She has become a slave to that voice
Doing as it says
Because her heart aches for her lover.
Who wont show today.

The taste of freedom is no longer
Abundant on her tongue.
It’s a dull,
Life less flavor
That fills her mouth with dread.
Long ago her prince promised
To wed her
At her will.
But she’s been long forgotten
On her window sill.

Some say her ghost is still there,
Mourning over her loss.
It can be heard crying
For her prince to come.

But I know the truth.
She’s been long gone by now.
Met up with her beloved
In a place too high to see.
On some days like this
When the rain is more than mist
You can sing along to her tone
Of the prince she no longer can miss

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