The sky was alight with the smell of fear
and red koolaid was poured through the clouds.
the thunder struck like balls of wet paint hitting the brick side of a building.
isnt it nice to be in on a secret
that noone else can hear
his face shot right through her
and the smell of his hair knocked the sun to its knees.
when you woke up this morning
you had no idea
today was the end of yesterday,
and the preview for tomorrow.
and with the building ablaze with golden licking flame
you cried this poem out
i wish for once
your eyes would look happy
my silly
Mirror girl.
10:38 pm - Wednesday, Sept. 18, 2002
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