A Crack in the Line

Coca-Cola’s on the desk
Leaving those
Circular stains on it.
Creating art on it’s own.
My mother would say
It’s garbage and needs
To be cleaned up.
But I think it’s
Beautiful.
I’m just a crack in the line.

Theories out there that
There’s another world
With someone that’s called
Your twin.
Who’s identical to you
And is doing the same
Thing you are.
It that is true, I don’t
Think there’s another
Carson in that
World.
I’m just a crack in the line.

“I hate reading” is what
Society says today.
But I love it and I’d
Shoot down the first man
That’d try to burn my
Books.
There letters speak to me
Accepting anyone,
Especially me
To read their story
And feel their spine.
Society thinks I’m
Crazy for calling them
My best friends
I don’t care.
I’m just a crack in the line.

Statues turn to face me
As I walk by.
Begging me to play with
Them.
I laugh and Smile
And wonder what the
Creator thought as he
Built those beautiful
Landmarks.
People stare at them
But I wonder about them.
I’m just a crack in the line.

Girls with OCD have
Perfectly clean rooms
And exact outfits with
Accurate hair and makeup.
I mix stripes with polkadots
Go natural with makeup
And do something new
Something different with
My hair
My beds never made
And I have circular
Staines on my desk from Coca-Cola’s.
I’m just a crack in the line.





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