Empty Girl.
Dead-eyed queen.
Cut her personality out of a magazine.
("How to Play Coy to Get the Boy"
- turn to page 3.)

Garish girl, way overdone.
Blank face heavily caked in makeup.
Paint on another fake expression.
Please,
don't make me laugh.

Thickheaded girl devoid of thought.
Owning nothing that can't be bought.
More like everyone else,
than anyone else.

I want a refund.

There is a thief among us.
One so stealthy and sneaky-
A shadow on the wall would be too loud for her stealth.

How then do I know she is here?
And how do I know that she is a she?

Well that's because she stole the heart right out of me.

I never saw it coming,
I was to blind...
To thickheaded,
I admit even to selfish.

I had this thief in front of me

One year.
She had beautiful red hair that could make a cardinal weep.
She had a smile and a blush just as bright.

Yet she snuck under my radar.

She stealthed her way two more years
Always there
Always connected
Always noticed
But never known.  

Then she made her move.
In the dead of night,
While we were on the phone.
She spoke seven clever words.

Seven words spoken true can make anyone fall for you.

Then she called threw my screen.
She reached her tender hands into my soul and caressed my heart, and taking part of it with her she retreated.

But not to hide.
She blew her cover.
Now she had part of me, and I part of her

I know who she is,
And I know that I want her in my life.

Words of no profit,
Chitchat and debate
worth no participate!
Rather saving the lost,

Edifying the synagogue.
It’s the beast works
For men to mine;
Strifes among themselves,

Diverting the energies
And thinking of disciples
Thousand miles away,
Away from the way,

from what to be acted.
Never forget HE existed,
Existed before thickheaded tail.
The tail never wins at all!

Life, the race across the lake,
Philosophy of man starts
Invading the beliefs of the temple
With false teachings.

Dogmatic mentalities an’ hard cores
Result no spiritual growth.
Be diligent in study of HIS words;
The Truth!

Ignoring the fact that it has no engineman, no plan, no back-up, and it's passengers couldn't keep up.
My life feels like an empty train with no destination.
It's goal is to move away as far as it could with no hesitation .
Maybe I'm supposed to be the one driving.
If I do, then I might as well just forget about arriving.
Actually, can this thing even be on auto-mode? I see no concrete railroad track.
So far, I've been letting it do it's job and fall back.
But lately it's moving so fast, I kind of want to go back.

Just a while ago I was in station twelve, I got distracted and wasn't aware of the train leaving. Ever since, I've been wandering around, grieving.  From time to time I would get glimpses of my train. I would call out for it, but it refused to stop or even slow down. So I chose a town, and settled in. It was called town sixteen. Before I got comfortable, my train came by to fix it's engine. And I was getting sick from my routine. So I decided to get  in, and it was great.
Little did I know that this joy was yet to fade.
I got to see all sorts of  forgotten views: passion, friends, peace, God...
Little did I know that the temporary serenity was a fraud.

As we approached station seventeen, the train was gaining speed. "Slow down!" To the thickheaded machine I plead. I was not keeping firm ground. That before I knew it, I fell to the ground.
Out of the train I was shot.
My face felt hot.
Covered in blood and broken glass.
I have completely ruined someone's freshly cut grass.
I was so embarrassed and miserable, my own train threw me out.
Full of self-doubt
I decided to out run that thickheaded train.
I ran and ran and ran...
but in vain.
After some struggle, I came up with a simple plan:
to follow the most used railroad.
The freshly traced marks on the sand, I followed.
Thus, I arrived to the common land.
Everyone was so busy, going in all different directions at impossible speed. That no one bothered to give me a hand.
Not that I cared anyways.
For I too had my ways…
Ways that I hoped to discover anytime soon.

It’s rolled up sleeves.
It’s cut up knees.
It’s worrying to those who don’t understand it,
but, then again it’s not giving a ****.
It’s a spark of hope
almost lost in a sea of dread.
It’s not something many understand,
and in earnest a bit thickheaded.
It’s the feeling of being young, of getting caught up in fleeting games of love and lust before settling down for a drink or two.
It’s rebellion, really.

She opened the door
Following the whispers
And melodies
Cutting through the calm
Of her mind
Searing through the silence
Of space
Teasing the thickheaded
And laughing about their lies
Till nothing remained
Nothing
But utter Truth
Sharp thoughts
And a hurting heart
But, oh
Such bitter comfort
Such sweet pain
Such lovely pain.

-E.R.