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Array ( [sid] => 63451 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Dirty Autumn [time] => 2004-09-12 09:10:00 [hometext] => Dirty Autumn and Little Girl Blue are copyright to me. :) [bodytext] => Her name is Dirty Autumn,
She was once a lonesome girl.
She wears her hair in ribbons,
And her neck is lined in pearl.

She's got shiny new white shoes,
With not a scuff, nor mar.
Upon her brow, a circlet of gold,
To hide her pretty scars.

Set upon her bony wrists,
A golden bracelet or two.
Simply there to cover the wounds
She made upon herself, for you.

Sweet little Dirty Autumn,
She's such a lovely child.
With her hair, long and blonde,
And a temper that's so mild.

She's got a lovely singing voice,
Gentle and true and fair.
And eyes, so blue, and wise, and deep,
Yet filled with crumbling despair.

She is but a mere ghost of a girl,
Not truly here, but not all gone.
She's trapped, at night, between the worlds,
Yet vanishes with the dawn.

She hides herself in gentle fog,
Lingers on, in mist and cloud.
Searching for a death that never comes,
While in her delicate shroud.

She was once a pretty princess, Dirty Autumn dear,
Filled with a terrible heartache.
In a moment of rage and self-pity,
She drowned herself in the lake.

The King and Queen were not even saddened,
None in the kingdom came to mourn.
For the young princess, once full of life,
Was never even meant to be born.

She was nought but a mere mistake,
And it was this that she knew.
And so, she took her own young life,
And joined that of Little Girl Blue. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 149 [topic] => 31 [informant] => blackmarker [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 14 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )

Dirty Autumn

Contributed by blackmarker on Sunday, 12th September 2004 @ 09:10:00 AM in AEST
Topic: StoryPoetry

Her name is Dirty Autumn,
She was once a lonesome girl.
She wears her hair in ribbons,
And her neck is lined in pearl.

She's got shiny new white shoes,
With not a scuff, nor mar.
Upon her brow, a circlet of gold,
To hide her pretty scars.

Set upon her bony wrists,
A golden bracelet or two.
Simply there to cover the wounds
She made upon herself, for you.

Sweet little Dirty Autumn,
She's such a lovely child.
With her hair, long and blonde,
And a temper that's so mild.

She's got a lovely singing voice,
Gentle and true and fair.
And eyes, so blue, and wise, and deep,
Yet filled with crumbling despair.

She is but a mere ghost of a girl,
Not truly here, but not all gone.
She's trapped, at night, between the worlds,
Yet vanishes with the dawn.

She hides herself in gentle fog,
Lingers on, in mist and cloud.
Searching for a death that never comes,
While in her delicate shroud.

She was once a pretty princess, Dirty Autumn dear,
Filled with a terrible heartache.
In a moment of rage and self-pity,
She drowned herself in the lake.

The King and Queen were not even saddened,
None in the kingdom came to mourn.
For the young princess, once full of life,
Was never even meant to be born.

She was nought but a mere mistake,
And it was this that she knew.
And so, she took her own young life,
And joined that of Little Girl Blue.

Copyright © blackmarker ... [ 2004-09-12 09:10:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Dirty Autumn (User Rating: 1 )
by AspenGlow on Sunday, 12th September 2004 @ 09:46:21 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Yes gifts can be taken away, no appreciation so why stay.

I liked this poem, thanks for sharing.

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