(Okay. My first attempt at writing (DUNDUNDUUUUN) a poem. It's sucky. It really is. Je n'aime pas. It's my first poem since, like, sixth grade, when we were forced to take a class on this stuff. But since I'm part of the lit mag, I decided to give a poem a shot. I'd REALLY appreciate if someone could critique it and tell me how to improve it)
(This was inspired by Eponine in Les Miserables.)
Why She Waits
Why
Don't you see her?
Standing mere inches away
But to her you're miles apart
Her eyes of the ocean
Her hair of the earth
A subtle beauty she may be
But your eyes are still averted
At some other pretty maiden
Your attentions still may lie
With lilies in her hair
And fire in her cheeks
But still, she is waiting
For you to recognize
Every sacrifice she's made
But she goes on unrewarded
A fragment of a being
She struggles to survive
Like a stone against the waves
Continually she's beaten
Silent screams, crystal tears
Your empty eyes, deaf ears
Invisibly she's dieing
Everyday a wound is opened
Knowing you are blinded
By the fire that passion feeds
She holds her crimson roses
They are spilling at your feet
But you smell a brighter flower
You let her pedals break
And fall upon the empty streets
But when that day should come
When you hold her in your arms
And your voice is velvet tender
She gives up all resistance
And lets the ocean take her
And angels in their glory
Mend her broken wings
Silver feathers brush her cheek
They whisper in her ear
Welcome
We've been waiting