Down she goes

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Who are you really

in the surface of your mind?

For your depths remain a secret

sprinkled into the night

like fragments 

from another world

You have inherited time my friend

as tired stars do rest upon

your bed of endless woe

You wear the face of a fading comet

seeking out the villagers below

And like a magnet meeting the Earth’s core

your smile bleeds 

towards the black 

beneath the trees

Plummeting 

reaching desperately for the sun

Long gone it is

from your hands

and so far from a time

in which you called it friend 

 

Self-inflicted

Uncategorized

I wish you knew

not everyone is a thief

 

Your days are stolen by eyes

that cry out for acceptance

while walking past forests

without a glance to the left

 

You misread my calm

for carelessness

when the truth is

I could care less for thoughts

that aim to turn my vision red

 

For all I see are green trees

and each leaf

as it edges further

to the forest floor

 

Walk with me

in the darkest of woods

breathe the wet air

and throw your fair skin

into the muddy path beneath your feet

thrash around for a while

and let the thunder die

 

 

 

Girl Talk Self Talk

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Girl talk is not about what we say to other girls

It is about what we say to ourselves

It is what happens when we see mostly mirrors

and stitch words into our skin

as though we were taught

right from the beginning

to wear the whispers of other people

Basket Cases

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There are baskets

juggling on the heads

of girls

carrying too much

of what is grown

in someone else’s garden

 

Aching necks

break daily

under the weight of

what sprang

from the dirt

you chose

 

So specific in your decision making

as though purchased

with a particular design

in mind

 

And when you

trip over their

broken bones

and feel the instantaneous

crack

that crept upon them in slow motion

will you finally know

what it is to be broken

brick by brick

cell by cell

under your heavy words

and poorly framed eyes

 

The angriest girl in the world

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I see your face

and wonder about all

the messes you make

when walking the world

asleep

 

The pain in your eyes

has hunger pangs

as you slowly starve

in Perfection’s demise

 

What is it that makes every day

a life worthy of snaps

on the edge of your tongue

 

Like whiplash

you walk in

flicking storms in the path

of those expecting soft rain

 

It is hard to be near

your field of pain

when mine is so permeable

like a sheet

sewn from clouds

 

And I fear

one day

these clouds

will turn grey

and rage as you do

washing everyone away