One of the poems I wrote years and years ago. Any poems I wrote back then I am posting up here warts and all in tribute to Nyssa, a very close friend from that time who’s now gone.

A little girl with an old woman’s eyes 
Sits on the porch watching the darkened skies; 
Her face says she’s seen too much, 
Flowers appear to wilt at her touch. 
Her face smiles but her eyes are sad 
A life of Balance she has always had… 
Her twin, so sweet and pure 
Blonde tresses add to her allure. 
Aeria and Airea, two halves of one whole 
Aeria can see into your soul.

Airea, so innocent, so carefree… 
She knows not what she cannot see. 
Aeria can’t see illusion; 
With her there is no such confusion. 
Airea, so peaceful, so rare 
Hair so soft, head full of air. 
Aeria, once pure, now used 
For it was her her father abused.

Airea, using words to wound 
Little does she know that she is doomed- 
For beneath the facade 
Lies a heart as hard as a steel rod. 
Since appearances deceive 
Why is it her you believe?

You ask why Aeria is so depressed, 
When all her life she has been repressed? 
She’s learned to hide when she must- 
In her poor young heart, there’s no such thing as trust. 
Trapped in a world of “Good” and “Evil” 
Where does that line begin to grow feeble? 
Why is it that the middle ground 
Is so preciously rare to be found?


~ by araelysia on November 21, 2012.

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