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Leanna Taylor Oct 2012
Our skin tells more about us
Than most people would think.
So many stories to tell,
So many secrets that hide
In our skin.
Only a few layers deep,
Only a few chapters into the book of our lives,
And already one can learn so much about another.
And as we turn the pages, the skin we see becomes stronger.
Every scratch, every bruise, every scar has a purpose;
With these marks we reflect our battles,
Our defeats and our victories.
Every mark of ink holds a memory,
To illustrate the moments we shall never forget.
But our skin only shows us part of the story.
For the rest, we must dig past the layers
Until we reach the core of our bodies,
The soul of our stories.
And we will find the soul one layer at a time.
Leanna Taylor Oct 2012
These eyes, these eyes, these miraculous eyes;
These diamond irises that light my path to a wonderland.
This wonderland, this hidden world,
This beauty I’ve been hunting for that I’ve finally found in these eyes.
A beauty that could never be found in my waking hours,
Only in my dreams.
These diamond pools surrounding black portals
That stand as my door back to reality,
Back to cold, harsh darkness.
With every blink, every flutter of an eyelash,
I’m reminded of where I really stand in this world;
Not in this wonderland that I’ve desired to live in,
But the bitter-sweet world I have to call home.
One day I’ll learn to accept this home,
But for now, I shall hide in these eyes.
Leanna Taylor Oct 2012
Empty. Vacant. Broken. Useless.
The ways to describe
the rust-covered, abandoned
Ferris wheel.
What it really is is lost.
Lost. Soulless. Helpless.
Standing alone in a rundown theme park,
standing as only a memory.
Its purpose has drifted away,
detached itself from the body,
leaving only its ghost to suffer
and watch as life goes on without it.
The wind guides it into the familiar rotation,
reminding it of what it once was.
The slow, eerie creaks of its movement
cry out in the empty skies;
its echoes dancing through the park.
It screams, “I am unloved!”
“I’m lost! I’m scared!”
“I don’t want to be forgotten!”
So the wheel keeps turning,
Holding on to whatever is left of its
Empty, soulless life.

— The End —