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JessyWrites May 2015
Beautiful eyes and sweet smiles.

Lively laughs and happy life.

People barely see her cry.

How could she hide in the glittering of fine mask?

When nothing feels right and everythings torn?

How could she hide in the glittering of fine mask?

When sadness dwells within her?

How could she hide in the glittering of fine mask?

When melancholy eat her all alone?

Her similitude to the moon shows she's forever alone and unwanted.

She's hiding in the darkness of light because she needs to pretend thus people will not see her tamed heart.

She shouldn't feel this way when people left her in her way.

She shouldn't pay heed to the criticisms that underrating her for they will fade away as doth the dye on her hair.

However she couldn't stop her self.

How could she unmind them when they are the fire that keeps her heart alive yet extinguish it by their own spit?

She is just a puberal girl seeking for a match that can light her candle and illuminate her sombre world.

Yet,

Moon seems has a crush on her for he dont want to leave his partner and keeps on pulling her back to where she really belong.

Darkness.
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Clay Face Mar 2020
Disconnected, self destructive,
every moment alone and soon out of time.
Don’t desperately pull anything to breast.
But clocks run out, and panic will a set.

Hold your breath now, what’s the hurry,
these things cannot be forced.
Step on your toes, around this blushing rose.
Your stomping will bring the end of time.

Once distant, infancy blinded me.
I pushed you away, before so evilly.
Reality will wash away the falsify of order.
The fatuousness of lonesome is round the corner.

Ego and fear sublimated away!
I’ve seared you, now honest and vulnerable.
I hope this state can repair a path so dismal.
Constructed with puberal malice and discontent.
Apologies I can give, but actions scream.
Let me love incontinent.

Far too long, we’ve sat in complacence.
Now youth has boiled away we can see.
I’ve been dilating connection to a crony.
One I clench so profoundly.

Connected like roots to soil.
Far past our old toil.
Juxtaposed, we are paradoxical.
But we’re both connected to nobody.

— The End —