The Ring

(I was going through some of my poems from seventh grade. Found one and edited it, and though I'd post it up here to amuse you all; I was so melodramatic in seveth grade. Haha, what a silly little emo seventh grader I was.)

The Ring

Burning in the hollow of my throat

is a small golden lie strung through

a silver chain of misplaced hopes.

My lips mouth the words of a song

heard by many, but listened to

by few, the haunting melody brandishing

Truth like the sharpest sword in its defense.

With each syllable, each flick of my tongue

against my bloodied lips, the golden lie

burns brighter, burns harsher, and

the melody’s sword hacks deeper and

deeper into my torn heart.

I wait, in the darkness of the unknown, until

someday the silver chain will break, spilling

my hopes and the linking dreams over the

cold tile floor, until the small golden lie falls

from my throat and sinks through the floor,

disappearing in a dim red light.

The golden lie will never be truly gone.

It has burned so bright for so long, it has left

an imprint of itself on my skin,

an ugly red welt against pale, sickly flesh,

made worse only by the bitter cuts of the

Truth, its slashes powered by the sound

of my voice whispering,

Never.

Never.

Never.