My Pop Tart

17th March 2009

“Pop tart, what’s the matter.”
I’m free.
Holding on to a place of less soul,
     feeling the halt,
     a little bit longer and a little
     more free.
I’m blue.
Skipping my heart to your world,
     knowing I’m beautiful,
     just some more though I
     could be you.
The ink drips from my pen,
the love falls from my heart.
I write in blue;
     my brainwaves too.
I want to be like you.
Tragically.
I could hold on carefully
     to somewhere more secure –
grasping the leads of a
     home I’d rather.

The sunlight says hello and the words
keep falling off my pen and the light
keeps dropping on my page.
I hear you shriek;
     the train goes by and I don’t know,
     but you’re silent.
The scuffs line the floor and the
music fills my ears.
Go;
     the shattered windows and
No,
     I won’t ever forget you.
You’re the last, and you keep whispering,
whispering words in my ear.
Compassion.
You, my friend, are a star.

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