You can't just dine; It's not time.
Sleep, lines the bottoms of her eyes.
The circles form overnight, deprivation, falsification.
So if her common sense neglected?
It's 'cause something bigger's detected.
She doesn't mind being left behind.
She would rather go slowly to watch the sunset, anyways.
No reason to look behind the smokescreen (there are some things that no one needs to find.)
Look on as she survives another attempt, kinetic in her learning. Pleading guilty in a non guilty crime.
Avoiding awkward by jumping the fence to turn and step.
Can't help the second nature, her reflexes from past experience stay quick-just to hate her.
They taught her well, as she sought to dip-set
(back to her speculum of normalcy.)
Walking down the street, curbing the beat.
Lights flicker in and out; shadow-boxing down the alleyways of her life.  
Her eyes may have welled, only to dry; in the heat of the moment, regrettably she could only, sigh.
The one thing her mother taught her is to never believe in surprise. Collectively she will be waiting for the day and time when she gets hit from behind the lines, life flies by and she is not afraid to die.

"And she will bite her bottom lip all she wants."

In my heart,
a violent sea rages
full of tears and emotions
that threatens to consume me.
So fraught
that I will never be able
to reach the surface again
nor see the light of day.

But through the growing darkness,
a small pin of light glimmers
and slowly grows.
Obscured by the ashen rocks
and burnt-out tree stumps,
it slowly sheds light
on this forgotten wasteland of obsidian
that I call my own.

Even in this forsaken place,
there is an essence of serenity
- a ray of undying hope
that fills my thoughts
with the fond memories of you.
My soul is filled with anguish
and my bones crack and grind against each other
for the fear of never being able
to touch your face or hold
your hands in mine again.

I can neither let you go
nor let you fade away
into the mists of time.
So I choose to endure this torture
in hope that you will love me
in the way that I love you.
For that one chance,
I would gladly endure ten times this agony
to know what you feel.
So I wait,
in my darkened world of fading shadows
staring up at the small pin of light.
Waiting…
Waiting for morning
and the day.

Dark to dawn, dawn to light, piercing rays combat the night
Dipping moon drawing nigh, floating, trancing, tracing by
Yawning morning beckons still, willing sun against night’s chill
Clash of forces, voice of wills, call to victory ever still
Shades the night, lumens the day - tendrils and spirals to strip away
Entwined in struggle, surging forth, seeking the coruscating flow
Darkness snared, one final blow - finally ending the blight of night
Out of the darkness and into the light, conflict restored - enjoin the fight
Dawn to dusk which can we trust, both sides are found in all of us

Note nothing of why or how, enquire
no deeper than you need
into what set these veins on fire,
note simply that they bleed.

Spain fought before and fights again,
better no question why;
note churches burned and popes in pain
but not the men who die.