Sunday, 6 March 2011

Record


A story . .
A story told all so many times, a story we all know word for word. Words? Words can be such aliens sometimes. What are these words? I know not them. The seeker turns me. I look at thee, a tree, you don't have a clue. And the devil dances with such malicious sarisfaction. Such a happy soul, he!
They move so swiftly on. Oh! so many sins they commit. The weight doesn't seem to bother them, the steps still so swift.
A murderer, a rapist, a bomber, a theif, a beater, a bully, a cheat, all that is me and him, sadist still dances on in extreme merriment. Rubs his hands in glee . . !! "You're mine, you're mine!!"
Fiery flames, cheerleaders are them.
Surrounded by insidiousness!
Con men and women.
No, I don't know. I don't know anymore.
I was only a child in the world, beautiful with roses.
I was only a child . .
Land of thorns rains only red rivers. It rains red. It rains red!!
Those lovely eyes mirror such sadness, the sadness imbedded in them as if for ever.
Make a stealthy swap, place a smile instead.
They don't seem to walk anymore. I am sure they are just floating about on ice. Ice, that hasn't been for ages. Food, it looks for. Food, is what the ice wouldn't get.
The trees once clueless, grow stones now.
Who ARE you, Lucinda?
The stones pelt away. It never did stop. It never seems to stop.
MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hiding, is no solution and I find myself telling my troubling to strangers who wouldn't care to understand.
With his many allias, the rumplestunskin continues to dance.
I would break out in a song but words can be such aliens sometimes.
Paralysis is a bitch!
No more will do no good to the pain that has been buried in me for centuries.
Bring on a mat of sharded glass.
Bring on floors of glowing coals.
I will walk on them all.
It's all turned into a melody.
Deafeaned by such agonising screams, I am walking, blind.
It's only better this way.

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