Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Her

She laughs. She listens and she watches,and she drinks and she drives. She cries.
she does the things she thinks will make her seem alive.She lies.

She laughs only when they do, and listenes not to them, but to herself, she watches the others, in their fluid unappealing manners, she drinks to alleviate the pain, she drives in hopes tonight is the night.

She lives. But she is dead, a walkin nothingness consumes her, she hides.

She realizes, perhaps a little to late, that life in it's grandest mysteries is often times considered great.

through pain painstakingly beautiful eyes she watches, she does what she assumes is expected, she lives.But she is dead.

When the pain comes, she allows it swallow her essence, to rip apart the very fibers of her heart, to shred the very threads of her mind, she wishes for closure, for acceptance, for recognition, it does not come.

She is no more than a droid, life is but a game, one she has mastered, she knows it's rules and abides them, she knows its boundries and does not test them.

She Lives. But She Is Dead.

1 comment:

  1. "she does the things she thinks will make her seem alive.She lies."

    i always told you i swear you write and its the thoughts in my head! get outta my head silky. you are amazing. this is amazing. like its all too real. reading it makes me wanna tear up i swear. :[

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