Throwaway verse written a few days ago. If I end up editing or using it for something I'll delete it.
She told me... time sure flies when you're the pilot...
I wouldn't try to hide it if she'd show me what a smile is,
climb a little higher till' you find whatever this holds,
you'll find the sky is lighter but your spine is still a wishbone,
the crime is in the fist, when her human nature cowers,
and the pike is the brick and you can fumigate the flowers,
"it's the little kid", glints in the reflection on his best blade,
she lifted the cement just to escape his little hedge maze,
amidst the brittle head games, she wonders where the birds fly,
she's given every symbol of her innocence, (her first time),
sacrificed the purity, the only thing that's certain is uncertainty,
and certainly a mess would fit her perfectly...
friendships shatter when you bottle them in glass jars,
if you need to find her you can follow in her track-marks,
yeah... she couldn't breathe... (long enough to read it all),
when the seas the author and the foliage appeases fall...
It's a last kiss... she will sift through what is left,
until she paints another world, through a different colored lens,
...as she counts how many days-are-left...
with a mud covered shovel and a grave-yard-shift...
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