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Internal ombustion
Clouds run down your face with the ease of an ocean wave on a warm summer night
Tear hit the floor with the pounding of your father's hammer on the nail that won't budge
Laughter is stalled with the silence of a thousand crickets who lost their pins
Hearts beat in rhythm like the symphony you played when the sun went away
Hands interlaced like the strings on a peg held tight by lyrical harmony
Wishes for hate held back by a dam of blood stained bricks
Eyes closed with the trust of a promise bound by love
Hope lost in a second like a child in a maze piled high with curiosity
The life of a dream woken by a warning for dawn is in sight
Torture as if that was the only way to see through lies of last minute innocence
Cares washed away like a spill of wine on your mother's white carpet that soon becomes an unforgettable imperfection
Rain falls like the wounded dragon in the tale of heroes and sacrifice
It starts slowly like falling asleep Christmas night, knowing the surprise to come
Then your eyes start to sting and your feet falter
Is this what it feels like to fall apart
One seam at a time
Perhaps this is what it feel like to drop from the sky
The downside to internal combustion

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I wrote this poem for an opening called First Friday at a studio where I took writing classes. I was given the picture of a small felt dragon that a local artist created and told to write a poem about it. The dragon was holding a miniature book titled "Internal Combustion." I was not sure how to go about writing on that topic, for I was not framiliar with the concept of internal combustion. I decided to go with metaphors and talk about falling apart, as in you cannot handle the stress and so you break down.