Iuly’s tale
Around the start of two thousand four,
A fragile girl, so young, unsure,
Almost eighteen, yet far away,
In white she stood, on wedding day.
Her “chosen one” was running late,
As always — maybe it was fate.
She knew, deep down, it’s all a mess,
But life had left her no redress.
She bore a child, she had no choice,
The world ignored her trembling voice.
Poor Iuly fell through hell’s cruel gate,
Beside a man who’d only hate.
He’d pull her hair, he’d make her bleed,
He crushed her bones with wicked greed.
The child was born, though love was gone,
Her tears kept falling, on and on.
She dreamed to run, to flee one night,
To take her child and seek the light.
But each attempt would end in pain,
With broken ribs and tears again.
For twenty years she lived in fear,
Depression whispering in her ear.
Through therapy, she tried to mend,
But pain refused to ever end.
One day, when darkness filled her head,
When every dream and hope was dead,
She walked onto the bridge so high,
And whispered soft, her last goodbye.
Beneath the green bridge’s embrace,
She sank away without a trace.
The river took her pain away,
And silence claimed her soul that day.
Категория: Стихи о смерти
Все стихи автора: Preda Loredana Gabriela ![]()
Дата публикации: 30 октября 2025
Добавлено в избранное: 5
Комментарий: 1
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