Absences My insides have been carved out carefully by a rusty, unsharpened knife. More and more worries are diffusing into my skin as I pant for sanity. Now, my heart has stopped pulsing and the blood is leaving my head and traveling to my feet, thus locking me into place. I am a statue, frozen with shock. My mouth frames the word no, and grunts leap out instead. Absence has overtaken me, and I am lost. Walking along, minding her business, a little girl comes running with a pail in hand. She spins and laughs, always so merrily in her excitement. Soon, she will prance to a house near a lake, looking for her mother. Her mother is gone, leaving behind a phony, a fake. Insults and lies pour from its spout, scaring the poor little girl. She runs away with a clutched heart, wondering at what has happened He sits there; just sits there with a foggy gaze. To the world, he is nothing, only a blob. He sits there and he sits there, without a change. They say he doesn�t feel, they say he doesn�t care, but they are wrong. His thoughts and his cares, and his feelings with his words are shown by his inaction. He cares; yes, he cares, it�s easy to see with his unpassionate fa�ade and stars in his eyes, he is waiting. Bumbling around, everywhere at once, she goes. With looks so stunning and a mind so brilliant, it�s almost hard to believe that inside it all she lays quietly and still, without any passion. Her soul is nonexistent, her spirit a joke; and when you hear her laugh, you know---it�s a cave�an echoing, hollow cave. There is nothing inside, she has no flame within. She is a frame, nothing more, with no thoughts nor feelings about anyone else in the world. |
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