Set in place for a journey,
One has no time for sleep,
The light has come into end,
The day is breaking, muffled.

The bones stretch on a rack,
For dizzy pace of eyes breath,
One has only this day for sleep,
This circle round now closing.

Birds sing in trails to the light,
The trees are pine posted signs,
Feet fall as they carry us beyond,
One has only but to wake in dream.

Am i beautiful enough,
for you to not see any other girls
walking on the street,
To whom you often stare ?

You were drawn to me
because I was a writer.
You didn't understand
that I write well
simply because I lie well.
Such is the art of storytelling.
I'm honestly sorry you had
to realize that
The hard way.

Stained glass shards glisten on the floor, from the window that was shattered. Words lost that cut the tongue, withheld because it never mattered.

Bare feet that no longer feel, I kneel on glass remains. If only my heart was unbreakable, but the overflow of everything it contains.

I built walls I let down, reluctantly for men who are undeserving. But it seems that heartache, is a lesson I'm always learning.

I'd rather just hear it burst because I'm always muffled sound. I can't keep looking in spite of hope, for something that can't be found.

I broke the window because beautiful, is nothing that is me. Maybe if I wear a mask, I can obstruct the image that is all they ever see.