A/N: This one's about how society will lie and gossip about her and shun her from their society, while all the while refusing to admit that her whole miserable life is their fault. It starts in 1st person from Ilse's POV, and when it switches to 2nd person, the "you" is society, or the adults in SA. Enjoy! =D
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Spring Awakening. All that belongs to Sater and Sheik and Wedekind and its other loverly creators.
Build me up
Break me down
Let me live as exactly what you would never ask for
Poke my bruises
Twist your fingernails, your knives and
your pains through my wounds
and watch the blood there puddle
Like a river
As if mine was ever so different from yours.
Do you remember that little girl
the one with the hair like a wildfire, the
One who danced on the street
Do you remember her skin
the purple under her eye
the skin with the blood crusted around the edges of those cuts that you denied
You watched the man rage
You heard him scream and hit
And you waited for someone else to help her
While your own lips remained stitched shut even though the words
scratched at the hollow walls of your head and branded themselves there
That's how your paper-white
unforgiving society works.
She walks your roads
Kisses your misfit with absinthe on her breath
Paint dried and caked on her breast, and
you whisper the lies to your children about
and as the months pass
you watch the children
The misfit failed.
The girl loved.
The boy left,
and you sit
and you wait for the next time her hair sparks like candle flame over this place
to come and find their ashes under her tracks
a person truly damaged, but never lucky enough to drown
singing with fissures along her throat
dancing with blisters on her heels
Taken and robbed inside
by father and artist and
Lost every single time.
The veins around her heart pulse
Wonder, do you know that her heart beats, heart pumps
a life out someone else's lacerations to bleed someone else's pain
because she is
Survivor of the hell you hand your children here
rain bleeding through the fractures of a discolored sky yearning for summer
Shredding the petals of flowers barely blooming
Thrust them into the wanting of the spring and thank your god the tempest ruined them before they ruined you
And yet she lives
her bone not yet beaten quite hard enough to murder her
and peer through the raindrops at her prayer
Her song, her hunger
Her own fire that is still alive
Her life white and worthless like butterfly wing bleached blank by the inability to fly
You watch her cry
And though your gossip slips through tame, articulate lips and wraps the lies around your own tongue,
Still you shadow the eyes of your heart and always deny that you were the one
who broke her.
Thanks so much for reading! And if you have any thoughts, please review! They really do brighten up my day. =D So... toodeloo!