It was the stillness, the silence, the cliche of the environment as the stupid girl laid in the squalor of her own making.

It was a holy day for some, ressurection, forgivess, death and life, thrown in to a mix of endless questions.

When steps are taken yet you are pushed back, the lost girl weeps, she smiles, desperate child, forgotten mother.

Friendships, equality yet there has never been such a circumstance. She does not fight but she resents. She thrives off the conditional, the contradiction.

Dreams, what use are thoughts when actions can never meet expectations. Fighting still but hopeless cynical aspirations thrive.

Depressions, grooves and lumps all over her skull, within the young girl’s mind. Hold and cast away as she limps away even as her sight looks far beyond, inside.

Who is she?

She isn’t sure herself.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: