Turning Out.

July 22, 2008
By Sierra B., Clarkston, MI

A beautiful description of nothing,
My words split into two.
A disorganized clutter of thoughts,
And my dear, how are you?
I don't think I can sleep tonight,
Nocturnal gets the best of me.
I sit here staring lonely eyes,
I'm stuck in a dead daydream.
So am I really happy?
Is it all a facade?
Or am I just fed up with things,
I didn't care of the beginning of today?
Lose my words and lose my shoes,
My body, my mind, finally coming loose.
Untie the knots that kept me trapped,
I'm running and running all while
I just sit.
I lost, I win,
My troubles, my skin,
I'll tear down a building,
Just to wear myself thin.
Disgusting, it's sick.
Reality sinks in.
As I pull it by the throat,
And show it I'm not giving in.
Describe the feeling of intense starvation,
Of a purpose for believing,
That may not exist.
We wished but we lied,
We trust ourselves to hide,
As I finally come undone,
I realize this;
I'm done.

The author's comments:
Very confusing, but it's pretty much how confusing twisting out of a trapped place can be. Just turning out for yourself.

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