“Hey, but I don’t care,
cause sometimes,
I said sometimes,
I hear my voice,
and it’s been here,
silent all these years.”

(#ThrowbackThursday – old writing of mine)

by me
originally written in 2001
(my adaptation of hans christian anderson’s the little mermaid for a retold fairy tale challenge)

beneath the waves
empty of sound
seashells and pearls wrapped in her hair
this is her vitality
her life

but the surface calls to her
speaks of mysteries waiting to be solved
music and laughter of a different tint
she gazes through the bubble
at him

her sisters are envious
she has an inner glow
a father’s adoration and the eyes of a lost mother
she is his love personified
a seafarers dream

but she is just her
feeling so tarnished and raw inside
tired of the glory and the looks of deceit
spends most of her days in darker waters
singing alone

her voice is what she claims
admits it to be beautiful
but she sings for no one but herself and the shadows
dreams she will someday sing to him
her song of desire

but love has a price
she thinks a strangers hand deserving
trades her voice and her history for the chance
fins splicing apart painfully in two
into long legs

and she is beauty again
perfection in flesh and blood
but every step she takes is killing her slowly
and she is masked in silence
unable to explain herself to anyone

even him

the dry land is rocky
noises clash and clang all about her
she is deafened and her insides are breaking in rage
then she sees him
the god she has imagined him to be

he is under whelmed
doesn’t see the sacrifice
takes her for a night and then tires of her quiet ways
she is left in a disheveled heap
dizzy and broken

the ocean calls to her
knows her name
she walks on the shore touching her feet to the tips of the waves
how she longs to return
to be the innocent one

the pain is too much
each step one more moment of this earthly nightmare
her sisters come pleading for her swift return
one more chance to win him over
their father

she knows what happens next
the life she has to take is either his or hers
isn’t it always much easier to self-destruct
give up on who you are in order to save the other

so she is the foam of the sea
but I see her in a different light
she is the inner core of struggle and passion
the salty sea air that lulls you into that
dream state

that is her
to me

Silent All These Years (live) :: Tori Amos

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