Raindrops
are so close to tear drops, Who are we to distinguish? We get angry, when it rains. When we rain, others get angry. To some, the sky weeps in fellowship. The worlds tears mingle with our tears, and so wash away our sorrows. My flag flies at half mast
My light is dwindling Cranes lift hopes high up above the construction site of my heart. The cold seeps into my bones piercing deeper with every passing hour. I am lost, losing myself. The birds chirping no longer delight my fancies. Sepia is overtaking my vision. Once vivid scenes overtaken by the rollings fogs of my mind. But I have two hopes still lifted. My lantern pierces the fog and the lighthouse marks my destination with its beam off in the distance. Better days lie ahead. Tendrils of moss and jungle.
Reaching down, spindly fingers brushing up against my spine. Sweat droplets meandering down my back glistening in the canopy sun, gleaming in desperation, an emergency mirror signal in the wild. Targeted, stalked by the jungle cats of my past. Mistakes make the meat tender. I'm a delicacy. The undergrowth snaps and caresses my toes, beneath bare souls, a living carpet. A tapestry of hopes, dreams, and weaknesses mourned. Collapsing now, insects explore my prone, trembling skin. The hot breeze caresses and prods. Visions of beaches in tropical paradises. Pushed away by the piercing bite of fire ants and I am writhing, screaming out in anguish, begging to make it stop, begging for an end. The screeches of birds ring in my ears. Snaps. Lunch break. Inquisitive faces. Are you ok? Just dozed off, I'm fine. |
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