Saturday, 4 July 2009

By the lake.

See her standing by the lake.
The water cascades down her face.
Her tears are one with the rain.
She feels threadbare and she feels pain.

The water is very cold.
The evening air smells of mould.
The trees are shivering their leaves
As she descends into dark and peace.

Problems, problems everywhere,
Tangled up in her hair.
Hair in blonde, flowing locks.
She's resting now with the rocks.

And she hopes she'll not be missed.
They search for her in the mist.
Her perfect skin, so pale and soft.
Her body's still but her memory's not.

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