For years, slowly slipping over the edge till I start to tumble downward; like the red tears falling over the white satin under which the blue river runs. I watch the mocking faces flying in front of my eyes as I slip under. Some will fall with me for awhile till hands reach out and snatch them away. What is going to happen when I hit the bottom? The tears stop falling because no one is left to cry. What once comforted is no longer good enough, so it all breaks open. Inside there is nothing left.
Monday, October 26, 2009
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