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May 2016
Please just make it stop. Please.
Her hands were tired.
                                    Of digging.
Or was it her arms?
Her arms. Her arms were tired of digging. Her hands were just numb.
Numb, useless, blocks of worthless...hands.
And her knees. *****.

And her feet,__, they were no good as well.

She chuckled.
No good as well. No well as good. Well good as no.
The rest of her?             It was the rest.

The parts of rejectedness. The parts of her wreckededness.
The rest which she wrested with.
404 Error. Does not compute.
Her teeth clenched, her lips puckered
(the lower one crunched more than the other),
and she glanced around the yard in which she sat.
Weeds were strewn around her sides,
but she only really looked at the tree.
It was a pine tree, hers.
Big and round on the base with lots of needles.
It was a healthy tree. It was a lovely tree. It was a loved tree.

Tears had sprung to her eyes,
and she looked over herself once more:
1) one tennis shoe missing but both socks on
2) jeans covered in dirt and mud, probably from another lawn
3) shirt was black, wait blue, she could partially see now due to the dawn
4) so were some parts of her arms, and one of her fingernails was just gone
5) her face had all the bells and whistles, but something in her eyes was just...gone.
6) Her mind was still running through plans, but somewhere along the way, the train had derailed, and it was just gone
7) a slight breeze tousled her hair around her face, but the feeling it should have brought was just...wrong.
Gone* she whispered.
Going. Going. Going...

And so she opened her eyes,
and stared at the man she loved,
and waited.
But it was just      
Icarus M
Written by
Icarus M  25/Earth
   Benjamin Woolley
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