Child Fostered by a Table or writing?

The tango of pencil and paper reunite to decipher once again what my mind was trying to say.

Dead Flowers mark the dusty table

So many thoughts expressed there

A book read, a silly old fable

Ran through the maze of a child's mind

A song written in blood

And the little girl isn't hard to find

Under the table she stares blankly ahead

Papers in front of her, words alive

But her soul is dead

She was never one to cry

Silence was her game

And the cold floor was her bed

The table sheltered her existence

A mother, a father, and a home

Her writing told a different story in each sentence

What a life so alone

Where dead flowers mark the dusty table,

Lies a child in her sepulcher.

Author's Note

blah blah blah.

Reviews

[Rebecca Rogers]

It's good but I agree with Timothy--you need to proofread before you post.

Nice work! :)

[Timothy Morris]

Again, I like the tone; but you should reread it and do some minor editing to make certain you clear out some of the minor mistakes. You have talent, you just need to edit before you post.