Good news (Or perhaps bad news)! I ran out of old poems, so I wrote this poem today when I was bored. Hmm, the start is a bit rubbish, I quite like the ending though...
Zelda's poem: Goodbye, goodbye my darling
The only reason I'm writing this is for uni,
I hate writing this stupid, dopey poem.
Showing your feelings only makes you look puny.
Yet I shall write this about him: that'll show'im.
It all started on a cold winter's day,
The trees keeling over like pure white, skeletal fingers,
Trailing over the cream blanket, hiding the decay.
That day sticks to my mind, like crisp ice, it lingers.
I exited the large beetle-like car, trailed behind the chauffeur, the fool:
A man born in a suit who struggled with my brown suitcase.
I wasn't sure I'd like this school.
And then, out of the shadows of the large doorway, I saw his face.
It glowed like the moon against the midnight sky
His eyes shined like stars, like meteors flaming into my heart
I stopped fast, and my father asked me why,
But I could only think: this boy is a work of art!
And thus, many sunsets had passed:
Me and him, my darling, secretly presented our hearts
But I was stupid to think that it could last.
Those words he said that day: they felt like poison darts.
It wasn't his fault, it hurt him too.
He was simply mimicking the words of Dr Bloor
(His puppeteer and his oppressor, it's true)
My darling beautiful parrot whose heart was pure.
That night, he shattered my life, my soul
I was not rich, prestigious, beautiful enough.
That night, it took all of my self-control
To not cry, to show that I was tough.
That morning, I left; the hair he'd once stroked
Was dark and subdued and its life gone.
Like my spirit, torn apart and choked
Thrown and kicked and stamped upon.
I saw his face again behind a window with bars,
That pale celestial haze: my satellite, leading me where I belonged
But my home was no longer here, there were no stars.
But I turned away, hurt and wronged.
I heard later he'd announced my absence in the King's room,
His eyes dim and sad, and as meek as a starling.
Maybe he was remembering those words I'd said through the gloom:
Goodbye, goodbye, my darling.