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I walked the border of happiness,
Always looking in,
watching as people danced and sang
their merry nights to end.
I walked amongst the embers,
of great fires now asleep,
left over from the festives,
at which my soul was the feast.
I walked along the waters,
from waterfalls they pour,
unrelenting in its stream,
releasing my sorrow evermore.
I walked across the earth,
of those laid to rest,
ashen pillars which all but one,
do not mark my happiness.
Why I Stopped Writing
Here's a little story about me,
about my skill to paint a grim little scene,
to make the mind creak,
to talk of those things which we don't like to speak.
I was a girl of sixteen and I had a dream,
to exist so broken hearted that I would know,
know to the core,
that love was as real as I thought it should have been.
I was dramatic to say the least and wrote poems spanning ages,
wrote of crashed cars and seeing those eyes again later,
FEELING that stare,
knowing that though time had passed,
he'd not actually gone anywhere.
English class came,
seemed so lame,
most days in the back with the boys,
getting out of work with the most clever ploys.
Then one day the teacher said,
we could share our writing,
with all the others,
to my in