Monday, March 2, 2009



Is the distraction an act or figment of imagination?

Something believed to be amusement or light contradiction, even through the feelings are as tender as an ice princess, deeply attached. A crystalline princess looking up; the fact is a carefully created rose is always there.

Can all these years be summed up to the simple word, distraction? The very last thing wanted; nor one step taken day by day, no matter how significant. Does friendship base itself on the word, distraction? Do a friend base their thoughts on a person based on what other people might perceive?

A delicate pink rose still exist; bleeding from the sharp thorns crafted in single, deadly words. Stranger words might hurt; but friend words cut. A deadly rippling effect tearing apart a mosaic. I’m exhausted from a long year of extended work hours and sharp words carefully tearing distancing ones heart.

A black porcelain doll still lives; unmasked, showing it day to day. You just have to see it, a pink rose.


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