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Elaine (A Mad Girl Poem)
“Ellie.”
That’s what they called her.
Sweet Ellie, never a problem--
Never a bother.
Ellie with her twin brother.
Ellie named after the Lady of Shalott.
The lily maid--
The woman known as--
Elaine of Astolat.
That was Ellie, named after a girl--
that was cursed to die.
All because of falling in love with someone--
Who would never notice her.
Sir Lancelot--
And I thought you were a noble?
Are you not?
Poor Ellie.
Blonde hair, like sunshine.
Blue eyes, like smoke-- Pale and heavenly.
Like an angel.
Poor Ellie. . .
Wanting nothing but like her namesake, to be one day loved.
If only she knew. . .
She was loved, by friends, by family, by so many.
But she did not see us, held up in the tower.
Spinning her thread of sorrows, on the loom-- O’ that cursed loom!
It was her downfall-- Those lost hours.
The famous line of being “Sick of shadows.”
Wanting so desperately to taste some sort of light--
Some sort of desperation that she instead took flight.
Ellie.
Looking for love in all the wrong places.
Instead of succumbing to the aweful curse of her namesake.
She fell for something much worse than Lancelot could ever hope to be.
A monster with hair like night and blue eyes like the devil himself.
Named after an archangel, the perfect trap to be set for. . .
Ellie.
Poor Ellie.
How could she have known?
Poor Ellie.
My dear, dear friend-- Lost to us all.
Locked away in a new tower.
With a new curse hanging over her head.
Leave and she will die.
But not from own hand.
From the hand of the cruel captor that tricked so many years ago.
My dear friend--
If only we had all protected you better.
If only we had know--
Hindsight is rather a fascinating thing, is it not?
I do, deeply apologize.
For Lancelot.
For your cursed broken heart.
For your dreams to be so out of reach, that you took that hand--
Of a devil named after an angel.
Only to be damned in a different way.
Dear Ellie. . .
I am terribly sorry.
For your loss.
For your dismay.
For your broken heart.
Your hopeless romantic illness.
I can only watch from afar.
As you stumble, trip, fall--
And inevitbly, break your own heart.
Locked in your tower.
Locked away from the world.
Broken down beyond all reason.
Blonde hair turned pale.
Sweet smile broken in half.
Pale skin bruised from the iron fist,
that claims as hold over your life.
Blue eyes, dead inside.
An angel whose wings have been clipped.
Broken, and from the spinal chord-- R i p p e d.
My dear friend--
Lost dear--
I am sorry--
So dearly, truely sorry--
My dear friend--
My first friend in a new town--
My dearest friend, I am sorry, my dear, dear. . .
Ellie.
That’s what they called her.
Sweet Ellie, never a problem--
Never a bother.
Ellie with her twin brother.
Ellie named after the Lady of Shalott.
The lily maid--
The woman known as--
Elaine of Astolat.
That was Ellie, named after a girl--
that was cursed to die.
All because of falling in love with someone--
Who would never notice her.
Sir Lancelot--
And I thought you were a noble?
Are you not?
Poor Ellie.
Blonde hair, like sunshine.
Blue eyes, like smoke-- Pale and heavenly.
Like an angel.
Poor Ellie. . .
Wanting nothing but like her namesake, to be one day loved.
If only she knew. . .
She was loved, by friends, by family, by so many.
But she did not see us, held up in the tower.
Spinning her thread of sorrows, on the loom-- O’ that cursed loom!
It was her downfall-- Those lost hours.
The famous line of being “Sick of shadows.”
Wanting so desperately to taste some sort of light--
Some sort of desperation that she instead took flight.
Ellie.
Looking for love in all the wrong places.
Instead of succumbing to the aweful curse of her namesake.
She fell for something much worse than Lancelot could ever hope to be.
A monster with hair like night and blue eyes like the devil himself.
Named after an archangel, the perfect trap to be set for. . .
Ellie.
Poor Ellie.
How could she have known?
Poor Ellie.
My dear, dear friend-- Lost to us all.
Locked away in a new tower.
With a new curse hanging over her head.
Leave and she will die.
But not from own hand.
From the hand of the cruel captor that tricked so many years ago.
My dear friend--
If only we had all protected you better.
If only we had know--
Hindsight is rather a fascinating thing, is it not?
I do, deeply apologize.
For Lancelot.
For your cursed broken heart.
For your dreams to be so out of reach, that you took that hand--
Of a devil named after an angel.
Only to be damned in a different way.
Dear Ellie. . .
I am terribly sorry.
For your loss.
For your dismay.
For your broken heart.
Your hopeless romantic illness.
I can only watch from afar.
As you stumble, trip, fall--
And inevitbly, break your own heart.
Locked in your tower.
Locked away from the world.
Broken down beyond all reason.
Blonde hair turned pale.
Sweet smile broken in half.
Pale skin bruised from the iron fist,
that claims as hold over your life.
Blue eyes, dead inside.
An angel whose wings have been clipped.
Broken, and from the spinal chord-- R i p p e d.
My dear friend--
Lost dear--
I am sorry--
So dearly, truely sorry--
My dear friend--
My first friend in a new town--
My dearest friend, I am sorry, my dear, dear. . .
Ellie.
Published 16th Feb 2014
| Edited 25th Feb 2014
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17th Feb 2014 12:01pm
Pointless to fall in love with someone who would never notice, but judt as true that love is so very different depending on the type of relationship and cannot be compared. They fit too different roles. Very enjoyable write.
