Friday, March 27, 2009

Never smooth
The divots and bumps without pattern
Shapes too small for her
Little pinches begin
Irrational snips

Eyes blinded by the bright sun
Her hand raises to the sky
It can't block the rays
They penetrate deeply

Stumbling, the barbed wire tears
Softness removed
A little less of her now
Bit by bit, taken away

Easily moldable
Now able to fit the form that was
never meant for her.

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