April 23, 2009
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freshly washed tears
strolling daily along her
hands trained to wipe it all
to far off lands
her mind wanders,
in the harsh days
in the restless nights,
she dreams
never stopping
always going.
the pain of her
sweetest desires is
a voice swiftly carrying
her through
her dreams and
her realities
only to have it
all come crashing down.
fantasies are potent
life is that she wishes to
it all
should go
never is it worth it.
watching those freshly washed tears
become stained with the pain
is worse then the actual hurt.
there is no one there
she is alone to watch
the world revolve.
always dreaming,
and getting no where.
stuck in a dimension where reality is no more.
come down off your cloud little girl

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