Memories tear at my soull, like
rips on paper. Actions scatter my thoughts
like angry words. And like my thoughts
on those rips of paper my words are
scatterd on the floor__I ly there
with them curled up in a ball of
lies and while I try to find
my words, scattered the truth still
lies. Lies find me and cover the
truth, like the color black on a
stain. And water can't wash this
away like tears in the rain. And
like the tears in the rain and
the black on the stain I am gone,
but not forgotten. I am the
unwritten memory on
the ripped paper whose
words are scattered on
the floor lying there
like a balled up piece
of paper of lies
losing it's truth
with a stain
covered
by black
that
cries
in
the rain
still gone
but, not
forgotten.
Mrs. Vicious Demon
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-i-am-14/
