Thursday, December 18, 2008

two hundred twelve

Its the happy girl,
She's the little ray of sunshine.
But there's been a mistake
And the light's leaking from her eyes.
She's getting lost in her head
And its dark in there
Thrown between vicious riptides of
Whirling strands of thought.
Disoriented and nauseous,
She's getting tangled in there
But every attempt of extrication
Seems to further tie her down.
Its that web like a spider's web,
The kind that's made of silver light trapped shadows,
But spun by regret and shame and doubt.
And though by the moonlight it spreads
Capturing any opportunity that nightfall provides,
In the day its getting harder
To fight her way out.

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