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August Feb 2013
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
To see a business with empty windows
The blue building I pass by every day
With the once solid stairs only marked by a paint print
The man in the yellow jacket and the American flag shirt
Even though America is why he is walking on worn down shoes
320 on moffet, dilapidated apartments & hollow doorways
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The blinking open sign that flickers, only welcoming ghosts
The boy who gets off the bus stop alone, walking by it without a glance
With his back pack strung tiredly over his shoulder
The universal feeling of not fitting in still fresh in his memory
The field of grass, deserted
A cemetery of parts & wheels & headlights & people's once dream machines
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The lady who lives on 2nd near the sewer drainer
With hoards of stuffed animals waving from inside the windows
As she sits under the awning surrounded by them, smoking a cigarette with trembling fingers
The girl driving with her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel
Grinding her teeth as she watches the people she sees while on the road
Blinks slowly, as she knows home is where she is alone
But she'd rather see this road side sadness then the blank television screen
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
And she screams
As she crashes into a tree
The man in the yellow jacket turns his head
The boy's back pack falls to the ground
The women leaps up, her plush lifeless friends tumbling around her
The building are silent, remorseful
Nothing is a sadder sight to see
August Feb 2013
Like water you fill my consciousness,
Flooding the entirety that is my thoughts.
And when it drains, it feels so dry.
Let it not drain. Let it rain & rain & rain.
© Amara Pendergraft
August Feb 2013
I had a blow out tonight
A literal physical one
But a mental one
Followed soon after
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
August Feb 2013
Read each word
Reach for each word
Let it sit in your mouth
Twirl in with your tongue
Taste it
Savor it
Feel it on your cheek
Then speak
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
August Jan 2013
My social skills are strong enough
I can live with parties & get togethers
But home is most comfortable
Even though my definition of home is weak
Home is where I can be alone
Certainly preferable
To small talk, oh how I hate small talk!
It's just a long road not worth the walk
Words are me when they are written, not spoken
And I'm the one who prefers to listen
Sit back and watch everyone else go
And I never liked putting labels on things
Too organized, not enough chaos
But as much as I try
My insecure human nature
It loves to name
And it names me an introvert
By the loosest definition
I don't want to name myself anything
I just want to be me
But even 'me' has been dibbed by labels
Not even 'I' is really mine
Because it is shared with everyone else
And the only way I feel better is
Is when I'm alone at 3: 26 a.m.
Where 'I' and 'me' feel like my own
August Jan 2013
You can emphasize
The lies
You can hide the codes
In your lymph nodes
Yet fables are sticky as tar
You're running but you won't get far
Lungs beaten by cheating breaths
Drenched in slimy tales, never quenched
It'll only get harder as you start to stumble
And eventually, tumble
All the things said, they'll fill up your chest
Eyes will go cloudy, unable to digest,
Brought to knees, hands on the ground
They found you, lies your heart has been wound around
Chest torn open for all to see
And in the middle, I think, somewhere, there was
Me
August Jan 2013
My sugar
cube heart
Watch it
dissolve
In your tea
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
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