Slipping Away

March 30, 2011
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You are not slit.
You taste the center of something else
The slow fade to black
Cold, alone, slipping

Down. Down your face
The tears slide—your very own waterfall
-ing through the
All along you knew; you’ve always known

That you are different.
Not like the crowd
-ed streets full of the masses
And where do you fit?

You are a dreamer, but keep them locked
Inside, these dark, dark dreams…
You only wish you were slit.
You only wish to taste the center of yourself,

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