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Kat Francis Jun 2017
Under the tarnished light
With boisterous cacophony that wrestled and clashed
She sat.
That morning her heart hadn't just thumped, but it wanted to
Since the annihilated moment
She sat.
But now she sat with an emptiness
Not the bathetic kind by mediocre poets
The kind where you feel the vacancy beneath the skin of your chest.
She sat.
Until she could garner the courage to stand , she sat.
Watching while the aliens roared and laughed, she sat.
But she knew that by just sitting, she'd never move forward.
Kat Francis Oct 2016
That eerie afternoon she looked at herself. Swiftly so that she wouldn’t get disheartened. She noticed the thousand lipstick stains the sun had planted on her. Then she saw the place where he had masticated on her once fragile, delicate skin. Now dithering and dilapidated by the devil. She felt her mind blunder, which was better for her. It was better than her having to feel the agony of being a walking broken art piece.

— The End —