An unfamiliar place
I saw you standing still
And I drift away like a doll
Made of paper, brushed with dye
It rained hard
I was drenched
The colors bled
And then it faded
I was ripped apart
Crushed unto the earth
Soaked under the flood
I drowned holding on to memories
While you held your scissors and your brush
Making a dozen dolls to replace me.
*This is 4 years after the fateful day of June 27, 2003*
No comments:
Post a Comment