Eleanor
In hundreds now the snowflakes fall,
breaking through the night's black wall,
as I sit and over-mull,
previous day's events of gore.
Cannot hide from dear old Dolly,
girl who succumbed to her folly,
pushed my buttons, unaware,
how her life to shreds I'd tear.
Still, I see her, ghostly, pale,
as I pushed her off the rail.
Falling slow, like time had stopped,
heading toward her brains be mopped.
Sadly though, the drop was short,
from her destination: mort.
Troubles still, they followed cruelly,
Eleanor, the one yours truly.
Out of school and almost cuffed,
father, teachers huffed and puffed.
No one cared to see my side,
trusted Dolly, thought I lied.
But I swear, I did not cry…
I told them off and said ‘goodbye’.
To hell with people who don't care,
proclaim their love but are not there.
Alone I shall my crosses bare,
and walk them far,
to deep nowhere.
I'm in the car, my father's driving,
prison transport for conniving
girls, who don't know what they've done,
how their fortunes out can run.
As punishment, we hit the road,
to the North, towards the cold.
Seven hours without stop…
But I hear a tire pop!
“Shit!” he cries, and pulls the wheel,
holding onto beast of steel.
Pushes breaks and tries to steer,
before a crash our fates would seal.
But in the end, we silent go,
as we whoosh into the snow.
Wipers cry and engine steams,
my prayers to gods a distant dream.
Out we've lived this great disaster…
Eleanor's the death's new master.
And hand to God I did not fear,
when the cloak of end flopped near.
Fear belonged to silly girl,
first Eleanor, who makes me hurl.
I'm much stronger now and cold:
a girl whose soul must have been sold.
“Are you okay?” he asks, my father,
eyes slightly red and tearing water.
For a moment there I see,
a glimpse of who John used to be.
Back when mother was around,
our relationship was sweet and sound.
But his tears now cannot move me,
and his words they go right through me.
I roll my eyes, unclick my belt,
and curl against the glass to melt,
snow, and cool again his heart,
so, at last we could apart.
He waits a moment, lips on mute,
but silence well him does not suit.
“Come on now, Ella, not right now!”,
he brings about another row.
“There was a cafe, mile most back,
from there some help we can attract.
Unless you'd rather stay and freeze,
lost in dark, among these trees?”
I do not speak but up my hood,
to hide from father's attitude.
What makes him think that he now could,
pretend like all is well and good?
But out he goes and soon I too,
am in the snow, eyes toward the moon.
And past the moon, where stars I see,
which distance me from sanity.
“How nice,” I hear my thoughts call out,
“would be to take the cosmic route
among the stars, so far away,
that other people have no say.
Finally, in no one's eye,
the girl who never said goodbye,
free could be and sleep in peace,
for nothing left behind she'd miss.”
The cafe's old and wooden diner,
rats and mice must eat in finer.
Boarded windows, neon signs,
out, away, where no one finds.
But some still have, for cars there plenty,
a lot of rust, but single Bentley,
has my eyes across the road,
so fancy, must have cost a load.
It's silver like the moon and shining,
much too nice for mid-woods dining.
I wonder who has got so lost,
and what a ride with them would cost.
Dashing through this snowy nowhere,
in this silver painted flower,
would certainly give me the power,
to free myself from all my sour.
“Come on now, Ella, quickly please!”
John now interrupts my peace.
He's by the door, his foot is tapping,
a signal to me – he's not happy.
I turn away, and won't hear more,
and soon there's sound of closing door.
And there it is, my chance to go,
if only I weren't stuck in snow...
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