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Distance
March 8, 2013
Looking into the eyes of lost hope
Dwelling on what the soul wants
Perfection; the lone word carved into my skin
The fictional aspect I desire to become,
Ridding my body of the poison I intake
Hovering over the blessing that holds my secret,
I am slowly becoming broken to no repair
Losing the baggage holding me back,
No one notices the sharpness of my body,
The points poking through my skin,
They see the mask, the happy being I once was.
© Crystal F., Marshfield, MA
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