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QueenCecilia — Catharsis
Published: 2012-07-12 23:41:58 +0000 UTC; Views: 82; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 0
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Description Your indifference is so bitter my throat clenches up on instinct,
I've always been reluctant to swallow that which makes my lip curl.

Then again you were never very sweet to begin with,
the details of your broken mask was always blurred by the distance of your arm's length.

Oh, were you unaware of the cracks in your illusion?
My bad, but I was never very good at holding back what I thought of you.

Yeah it's been broken for a while now.
My eyes focused one day and I saw misery seeping through the shatter-cracks of a blank plain dotted by storm stripped trees.

I remember you stumbling, falling, and dragging yourself on sun dashed yet weary hands.
I remember how scared you were when your own mind started to howl at you.
Can you live with a witness?
Childhood fears shouldn't transcend monsters under the bed, to become monsters in your own line of blood

You now stand tall despite a labor ravaged spine,
despite fifteen years of servitude to a broken winged marriage.
I know your mind spirals downward and up in complex, diamond brilliant eddies,
but I've been sifting through the sandy and shallow that you've given me for years.
And let me tell you, the water up here is nothing but stagnant mire.

You cordoned off deeper waters, said the current was to strong for a child.
Don't you get it?
When you're born knee deep you have no choice but to learn how to swim.

Perhaps I should find my own waters, and build a mask for myself.
But I'm terrified I'll leave something wonderful, something that flitters with light and life, something delicately boned but hard to ignore.
Something worth finding in all this refuse.
I miss you, but perhaps part of growing up is realizing that that which you've looked for may have never existed in the first place.

Perpetual irritation heaves out of you in big yellow sighs.
To be in a room with you is to be unwanted.
To speak to you is like exhaling only to inhale thumbtacks and bits of glass.
It's as if your agony runs so deep that it stains the air with the essence of pain.
I can't live off this shit, nobody can.
But sometimes I wonder if you stopped breathing a long time ago.
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