An orange stub for a ticket

February 18th, 2007

She’d felt the shake. Staring ahead, the view was silver and gray as the sun played above. She is unaware of what she could’ve been thinking. I have what I wanted. But her mind was crying out in pain. She sat bewildered and silent, her dainty hands running down the small lump which was building in her stomach. Something is breathing within, it is her life. It helps her, makes her strong. A pact which up to now remains a mystery. Loneliness well-wrapped itself around her. An invisible crown she has on her head but uncertainty discloses her youthfulness. She is yet too young, naive and a liar. Her large eyes sees vagueness. The inner fire unyielding to be set free. I could only watch you from afar, you live just as I live. Sweet talks won’t do you nothing but I am asking you to feel the slap of reality and you have to stand on your ground. Her fingers clawed by her side like knifes. Go on, launch out your fiery existence. It is what makes you sane. This is your given minute of thoughts.