Poetry: Marked

Marked
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Glistening in the moonlit madness,
I walked to see what caused her sadness;
Standing tall at her distant door,
I gazed complacently at the vacant floor.

Searching for the answers, hidden,
My thoughts seem meek and smitten;
No way to go from here,
Left with watching her fall another year.

From afar she seems normal,
But naked is her insanity, formal;
Still blanketed from the truth and more,
From her mother at the kitchen door.

The exit to her vanished youth,
Still guarded by the awful truth;
Protected from harm by some other,
Or just the overbearing hand of mother.

Sweating from fear of loss,
Angered by remorseful thoughts;
She’s anchored to sandstone rock,
It’s posture scripted as a souless mock.

A lamenting jeremiad to the distance
Leaving sadness and severance;
Another night in wonderland —
Another fairytale of dissonance.