Screech.
Ropes attached to my back are pulled tight.
Screech. Screech.Higher and Higher I am pulled.
I know I'm a symbol.
A symbol for hope.
A symbol for love.
A symbol for pride.
I know all this.
But still I droop.
All that I stand for seems to disappear the higher I go.
Tossed and torn by a vicious wind from the East,
I stand strong.
But each and every gust cuts me deeper and deeper.
Battle wounds cover my spirit.
I cry as long as this is war.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
White dress.
Vanilla Cake with fluffy icing falls to the floor.
Forgotten champagne bottles remain unopened.
Swish.
Brooms attempt to wipe away the most obvious bruises.
Caterers pack up the painful memories.
Tears run freely on well-worn paths.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 12:18 PM UTC
A Grin in the Sky
She reaches with clammy hands
The Tide and Moon's love.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 12:15 PM UTC
Sticky, sweet Laughter
Ferris Wheels and fried Reeses
Welcome to the Fair
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 12:14 PM UTC
Laughter until tears
Four teenagers having fun
Writing their haikus
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 12:12 PM UTC