| She |
[Oct. 26th, 2004|08:32 pm] |
Night came with all its promises, hungry souls and alone little figures. You are, unfortunately, one of those. So you dragged long time in the ladies', wondering if the makeup was perfect and the dove-eyed face calm. Twisted your bracelet circlying your wrist, you somehow heard the music start running, no contact to your real world, people ready to chill.
Your vista travelling irresponsibly to the mirror in front, your face pink and sheeny, you could no longer bury your beauty in a sized tuna can. The whole past toppled over your imagination, you enjoying your loathing attitude, putting your finger in your mouth, chewing.
Walking on the cutting edge of fashion, you sensed how your faith shaking and cracking to burgies, you also listening to the melody of your dress fussing with your single pacing. The light loomed above you in a shape of a throne, but you were no queen of nobody. Your pride was too cold to get you a try. Watch you, all like a prophet of old, passing you steel-cold.
Dance, spinning around until to the ground, you were not made for pain... The scenario of your fiction was all under control, you writing on your fancy mind, silky and teasy. You never wanted to stop the raving peaks, you always remember how it was shaped in your oppressive heart. On your shoulder you experience older, you were, you were, although carefully consuming your youth, although you were taught lessons, you were always figuring out, but never really did.
I dance when I am happy; I dance when I am in pain. I don't know, I don't know. What's wrong with the world? I don't know... |
|
|