The Core of My Being

March 15, 2012
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At the core of my being,
lives a girl of a small size,
wrapped in a blanket of sorrows,
with raven-dark hair full of disguise.

She buries herself deep within,
hiding from the harsh world’s light,
she wishes to be alone with herself,
and her oh, so blinded sights.

At the outer of my being,
lives a tall, dark boy out of range,
wrapped in his own games of nonsense,
with a core of horror providing a derange.

He forces himself towards her,
and plunges through her tired, broken soul.
he wishes to be fully with her,
and so he quickly falls down the skeptical hole.

The hole is the core of my being,
of which I can not control,
“oh please”, I whisper to the darkness,
as he touches my tired soul.

The girl at the core of my being,
is awakened by his warm strong hands,
her tiny, scarred limbs reach out for his.
He carries her away with no demands.

So the core of my being is vacant,
but overly, wonderfully full.
For once was a crying little girl,
has now turned into a loving pull.

The boy lives with the sad girl,
in the outer fields of love,
and quietly at night when I’m dreaming,
he reminds me and her of the above.

“I am happy now” she cries.
“I am loved now” he cries.
And so the inner core of me goes,
“I am complete now” and quietly dies.

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