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Feb 2011
Crusted dirt lingers beneath my nails,
Against its bed of cracked skin,
They tell of stories we never could have known,
Let alone,
Familiar faces and places keep my dreary eyes
and mind,
Behind my hidden wall,
Behind the one who's too scared to fall.

The paths have been taken,
And your breath is mistaken,
--You're worried,
and I'm scared,
Left shaking.

The stories old, it's hard to tell,
Too soon to gain composure,
Too soon to get up and leave my shell.

Once there were legs bound,
and once there was a smile,
Forced to give up the frown.

If you believe that I am complicated,
Then you must not know a thing at all,
For this could have waited,
And the storm could have killed us all.

Endlessly dreaming
Inferior to everyday thoughts,
Your silence is screaming,
Your voiceless soul,
carries your cross.

We'll begin to worry,
when your lips take shape,
of loud voices we know,
blinded by a world that hates.

Monstrous serenity,
The music floats off the tip of my tongue,
Between each ear,  almost effortlessly,
The tune twists and turns
(This song cannot be left unsung).

Faint whispers you once mouthed,
Between the cracks and folds of each ear,
Melodies I used to love,
Have morphed into troubling fear.

The murky pond that rests,
Where I stand ankle-deep,
Haunted times this night,
Memories, they seek.

I searched my soul to find you,
I gave my heart to discover,
I left my words up to the sky,
My head made me uncover,


YOU.

This disastrous scene,
You left me with,
Euphoria in Novocaine,
The disaster eating the vicinity.

And yet, I still yearn for you.

No longer can I continue to breathe,
hoping you'll pass my way,
For now my nail beds remain stained,
Like the mattress we shared that fateful day.
Jessica Rojan
Written by
Jessica Rojan
560
   Max Petersen and Skye
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