Waste of time

He snatched it from her hands

Faint smile upon his face

As though mildly impressed

Then advanced cutting space.

Her feelings had been given life

On a world on these pages

And this is what you’re doing

The look in his eyes raged

She smiled still hoping for understanding

A moment where he’d utter

Where he’d see her need to write

Then she saw them, the shutters

They crashed down so silently

They ricocheted in her head

Do something useful, normal

You can dream rubbish when you’re dead

To make the point a certainty

He reached for a metal pan

In it page by page were burned

Her dreams by his gleeful hand

It took a while for her to see through

The veneer of his helpful comment

Until the day she snapped

Walked out leaving him to lament.




Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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