The beauty behind the knife
The voice that told me, "sell yourself"
The containment of my words on her lips
The secrets written on my wrist
The pain in my side, pretending to be real
The tears in her eyes, lasting all night long
The heart beat keeping us alive
The wind in the hair, covering emotions
The rust on the swing, aching to be young again
The message, non-verbal, yet spoken out of ryhme
The sparkle in a puddle, making it all clear
The blankey hiding idle hands
The punishment for glancing touches, passive rushes
The love for a boy
The song of a girl
The freedom of speech
The backstabbing though of vengence
The wondering pathetic hopeless sap
The sickened looks, grotesque stares
The churled lip, and rolled up eyes
The story of true love , and broken hearts.