Poem Hunter
The Complaint Of A Forsaken Indian Woman
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The Complaint Of A Forsaken Indian Woman

Poem By William Wordsworth

Her body is nothing but an empty vessel for her soul to hide....
Her heart is a ship fighting its way through the rising tide....
Her mind a twisted mess of emotions andf chatter
She can't seem to distinguish the fakes from the ones that actully matter
Alone she sits in her darkened house
Not a thing is on everything is quite as a mouse
As she tries to sortthrough the endless clutter
That fills her head, she starts to mutter
Words that anyone else would not understand
But to her they sound like the perfect plan
A way to release her soul from its tomb
A way for her heart to arrive home soon
A way for her mind to be free from all the chatter
A way to help her pick the ones that truely matter
For a brief second she is as before
That something had happened that opened the door
The one in her head that let everything in
The one that made everything begin
Maybe she's always been this way she's not sure
But now she has a plan to close the door
]One that will make her normal and well
But shhhh it's a secret she can never tell....

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Comments (3)

i'm your secret admirer...........loves your write
very interesting as i go through, well penned, i like it, thanks for sharing
great poem, nice symbolism