Summer Tragedies
The on coming sun brightens the day like a candle flickering in the dark,Little children emerging from their tombs of restless sounds,
The elder ones walking around as if floating on air to a place that becomes their lair,
Leaving behind a soundless child with her endless cries.
She cries and cries,
Mascara pouring down her face like liquid darkness,
Her wrists smothered in a red glow,
Lip stick prints on her wooden framed mirror,
The figure before her now,
A broken vessel.
Beneath that fragile surface lies a sick place of wonder,
Games of blood and tricks of love intertwined with an excitement of death,
Dreams of crimson blades and heroin filled needles dazzle the mind with a joy for a self kill,
Does she realize that this is her new home now?
As the summer comes closer and the days become longer she risks everything for just a drop,
A drop of precious wine that fills her bloodstreams with life,
Every risk she takes she knows the downfall if caught and captured,
Still she takes every chance to see that wonderful bright red that fascinates the skimming of her eyes.
She knows when to stop and when the time is right to continue this joyous self mutilation,
Summers were always a classic tragedy filled with swirling cups of vodka and rum,
Swimsuits and short clothing were never her thing and never will be as long as she dances with the blade,
She never worries though.
Winters always come back around to save her from her misery.
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