the tourist
Blue Crack Addict
- Joined
- Dec 25, 2003
- Messages
- 27,919
Silver lining with the edges rubbed out,
a girl with broken wings stands on building rooftop, staring
at the night life of the city street below.
Her angel wings only flew so far before they'd broken;
the fall was devastating, the cracked teeth
on highway cement under summer's watching red, dead moon. Bloodshot, her eyes
see. Fog wraps round her skinny wrists,
twigs waiting to be snapped,
rings round fingers symbolizing promises she's once kept but long ago had forgotten.
All those boys she'd loved; all those boys who'd left.
The twisted iron halo hung over her angel hair in mocking stasis,
thorns in her side where makeup dribbled off her face, black mascara
traingles, badly drawn, forever stained.
Nothing inside of her left was beautiful,
the used
and the cast-aside. A discarded paint can. An empty bottle
of alcohol. Every emotion a plaything some child stepped on in his little combat boots, snapping,
crunching,
shattered.
Over the concrete lip.
Feet over shoulders, graceful like an olympic diver, silent
cold air pressing upward.
Until the sidewalk stained crimson.
a girl with broken wings stands on building rooftop, staring
at the night life of the city street below.
Her angel wings only flew so far before they'd broken;
the fall was devastating, the cracked teeth
on highway cement under summer's watching red, dead moon. Bloodshot, her eyes
see. Fog wraps round her skinny wrists,
twigs waiting to be snapped,
rings round fingers symbolizing promises she's once kept but long ago had forgotten.
All those boys she'd loved; all those boys who'd left.
The twisted iron halo hung over her angel hair in mocking stasis,
thorns in her side where makeup dribbled off her face, black mascara
traingles, badly drawn, forever stained.
Nothing inside of her left was beautiful,
the used
and the cast-aside. A discarded paint can. An empty bottle
of alcohol. Every emotion a plaything some child stepped on in his little combat boots, snapping,
crunching,
shattered.
Over the concrete lip.
Feet over shoulders, graceful like an olympic diver, silent
cold air pressing upward.
Until the sidewalk stained crimson.
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