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I'm little, red headed mess, more hair than mass or sense. All I really want to do is make something magical and show the world and have it be proud of me.

Saturday, 4 April 2009

Forget Me Not.

I sit on the garden step, and wonder where my serenity has gone. Yes, it's gone. The forget-me-nots rise above the grass in my Mothers perfect garden as if they're better than the green blades. I can see that they're just weeds. I want to walk over the patio and onto the grass, rip them out of the soil, cry and scream as my short arms flail in the weeds until I'm lost. Lost somewhere where I don't have to make decisions, where there are no forget-me-nots ruining the veiw from the afternoon, where no one forgets me. I wish that when I wake up, the grass runs longer than five foot one and I won't be able to see whats happening over there, anywhere. A place where no one has worked so hard that they care that the beautiful things ruin everything; they do.
My serenity has been decayed through the water covering my wide green eyes.
Do my tears feel like raindrops through the mud?

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