IN THE EYES OF THE STORM

IN THE EYES OF THE STORM

(T. Beechey)



All of the regulars know her by name --- “Sure I know Candy!” “Man, what a dame!”

They only refer to what they've been shown in words and phrases best left alone

Her real name's Mary and she's only a kid, barely eighteen with a life on the skid

Drug-free for now, but a mother of five whose children pray she comes home alive



And sometimes she cries whenever she feels

Her secret is safe, but she cannot conceal

The pain she's known since the day she was born

And she finds herself in the eyes of the storm



Her laughter rings out loud and clear and a smile stretches from ear to ear

The average person could not realize it was just a charade, just a disguise

When she's alone, away from the crowd, apart from the lights and the echoes so loud

When it's only her, she lowers her guard and thinks of her soul, tainted and scarred



And sometimes she cries whenever she thinks

No one's watching, but in between blinks

She sees the teardrops beginning to form

And she finds herself in the eyes of the storm



You couldn't tell, you'd never know if you only saw what she wanted to show

Dancing as if she was upon a stage, boundless and free, mindless of age

But after the final song has been played and she's by herself, that's when the charade

Begins to crumble and, in solitude, she recalls a dream that only she's viewed



And sometimes she cries when she assumes

The truth is hidden, but the darkness takes bloom

In the lines which etch the gaze she adorns

And she finds herself in the eyes of the storm



All of the regulars know her by name and all of their comments are almost the same

“Candy's a babe!”  Candy's so hot!” And it seems, for a while, that Mary's forgot

Then, once the shadows begin to fall and Mary returns to the place that she calls

Her home which is only four walls and a bed. that's when the whites begin to turn red



And sometimes she cries when she believes

No one's aware, but both of her sleeves

Are moist with teardrops still wet and warm

And she finds herself in the eyes of the storm

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Alen Alexander's picture

wow!!
powerfully shown, this poems certainly shows how looks are not what they always seem to be. One may seem to have the best of life, but they can't always or even never be true.
He/she might be the most enjoying as people think,but actually be the eyes of a storm.
i liked it :)

read mine, if time permits

Alen