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|annalebelle (profile) wrote, |
on 10-27-2004 at 11:31pm
|Current mood: mellow
|I am so not feeling poetic. But, hell, I'll try.
She watches the world go by through her looking glass stained by the hatred she's too blind to see. She sits by, watching the world turn, society burn.
Does she care that little children cry of the boogie man when they go to sleep? Does it even matter what other people go through?
So stolid, so heartless. That's what they all say. But none of them know of her realistic facade. The mask she parades when they all ask if she is okay.
She smiles and nods and reverts back to her own thoughts, the only things that seem to even make sense anymore.
Around her the world is dying. People are loosing themselves in the beauty of artificial happiness. They are to blind to see. She thinks she sees the beauty of the world. The beauty of the hatred, the magnificence of the anger, the bitter-sweet taste of the sorrow.
In time the stitches left by the tainted hands of others will fade, but inside they will always stay. Threatening to wither, to consume.
Is she a victim? Or does she only enjoy the childish game of make-believe?
With one swift slice she could end the pain that gathers inside of her like morning dew. But she will prevail if only to prove she could be the thing they said she could never be.
Letting my mind go again. I guess I was feeling more poetic than I thought. ^^;