The Sinister.
She was young,
But she didn’t feel youthful,
She felt full of age,
From the traumas of her past,
Pressing against her chest upon each breath,
So intent upon ruining the good graces you presented to her
And to the world,
It was as if,
She saw through the shallow smile pressed to his face,
She saw the evil intentions behind it,
A rarity to be so wise at such a young age,
But that’s what trauma does to the soul isn’t it?
It raises you itself,
Perching in the dark corners of our minds,
Of our souls,
Of our vision,
It surrounds us,
Happiness looks like a trap,
Wrapped elegantly in a pink satin drape,
Round the woman we call a mother,
Or a green football jersey,
Worn by the boy who ruined you.
-Jess Elyssa Rose