she sits in the dark,
at the end of the day.
Tea in hand,
her favorite song playing.
and she is proud.
Another day survived.
Her fire is returning.
slow, but sure.
Slow, but sure.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 26, 2012
the spark
there was once a spark.
in it's place, a hole.
she can't recognize
who she is now.
or where the spark went.
pieces of her broken heart,
salty tears.
anxiety filled panic
fill its space.
a crave to be herself.
a heavy sigh.
tears roll down her face.
words spoken,
weight lifted.
she will find that spark.
one day
she will find it.
in it's place, a hole.
she can't recognize
who she is now.
or where the spark went.
pieces of her broken heart,
salty tears.
anxiety filled panic
fill its space.
a crave to be herself.
a heavy sigh.
tears roll down her face.
words spoken,
weight lifted.
she will find that spark.
one day
she will find it.
sad metaphor
a toy
broken,
in despair.
lost.
a sad metaphor
for a sad truth.
a girl,
thrown away,
reeled back in,
played with.
a toy.
alone in a dark corner.
dusty.
imperfect.
broken.
broken,
in despair.
lost.
a sad metaphor
for a sad truth.
a girl,
thrown away,
reeled back in,
played with.
a toy.
alone in a dark corner.
dusty.
imperfect.
broken.
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