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Playing with rhyming and rhythm for a life unlived. |
| She reads and finds Imperfect rhymes. Pages out of order. Lying about my feelings Doesn't do any good. Telling the truth, Healing, Leaving misunderstood. Let go. And, though she may never know, Moving to slow showered cold Doubt on my soul. She'll never trespass where my heart locks its fear. Never enter there again. I shouldn't even care. Fear is where Despair and disorder beat in time. Fear makes me aware the price of her heart guarantees I'll never Afford her. Leave! Find another storm! Withstand it! Rain gives clay new form! This manic standing behind unbreachable walls preaches, but I'm Not what she'll want, whom she'll need, emotionally delayed. And since she'll demand attention be paid, Then may her wild display of tears and dismay Be carried away by people who will stay, And listen to her hurt. And believe what she'll say. |