Sunday, October 9, 2005

My glass box is empty

The world doesn't shine today. The colors are dull. Nothing has vibrance like it used to. He stole the last bit of me I had left. It was battered, bruised, and bloody. I bandaged it the best I could, I put it in a glass box, hoping it would be okay. See, don't touch, but I let him. I let him poke and prod my neat little heart, hoping all the while he'd just hold it, silent and still. Like time had stopped. He played with my little treasure one too many times. He took it, but left the glass box. The box is so lonely now, with nothing to protect. The glass, it weeps, silently, so quietly. No one can hear my glass box. It weeps on the inside, open it up and the sorrowful tears will be heard by all. You can't open my glass box, for it is locked, and locked it will stay...

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