She was pure once;
Feathered in feel, fragile and fair, frowning in fear of life.
"Grow grays woman, go gone.
What you are, what you were doesn't change what you will be.
Your yester-innocent voice is now committed with wisdom.
Should you lie in place or redeem what was taken?"
She fasts so fast, and dies in dyes of trance and thought.
Her watery mouth craves the taste of corn starch and pebbles.
Soon, so soon, everything will be yours.
Created: Feb 12, 2010Document Media