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Clutching @ Balloon Strings

Poetry By: Charlotte Jayne

These were dark days. Looking back to the past, and how to history has a tendancy of repeating itself.

Submitted:Nov 17, 2009    Reads: 58    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

My palms and knees strike the gravel again
The smell of tarmac in my memory
My hands are still grazed and my fingers still burn
For Karma to say it's their turn.
Torn jeans and numb hands re-lived through again
My own echo to offer condolence.
Blurred mocking faces replay my past paces
Why does this torment repeat?
Lie still for a moment to consider fate
Consealing the past from limelight.
My hurt, my tears, my paranoid fears
Attend to my every fall.
I'll dust myself down and agree to start over
Knowing that this time will not be the last.
Brush off this mess and re build my pride
It's time to pick myself off the floor.


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