Linda M. Crate

most girls want roses
give me briars and thorns
i want locked in the isolation
of a tree's thighs;
want to cut myself on every
icicle of winter
just to know that i can still feel
because sometimes i am
just so emotionless
to everything circling around my
head with it's vultures,
and i think sometimes i just look away
so my bleeding heart won't bleed-
just want to cut my heart out
feed it to the birds
because it's never done me any good
just grief, that is all;
and i want to know how far inward i can
fall before i fall outward again
how introspective my
seas will get before someone braves
the magic spell put on me,
cuts straight through the heart of my misery and finds the happiness i thought i lost as a child when i tripped over the syllables because i was the girl that always laughed sometimes so hard i cried-
i want to experience that joy again, sometimes,
but sometimes i just don't know how
so i withdraw to solitude
closing my eyes
becoming one with the river and trees.

Copyright 2014. All rights reserved.

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