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The Girl With Brown Skin It wasn't a bad day. It wasn't a good day. It was a day that really made me think. And at its end I cried. I remember most of my past, but I dont like to be reminded of it. Once a memory is brought back to the surface, pain comes along with it.
I stood in the parking lot under the sun, frozen in thought. I was supposed to be doing something, but I couldn't remember it for the life of me. I was in a daze, enjoying the sun's sudden appearance. There were a few cars around and no people. They all must have been inside buying groceries.
Something familiar pulled me out of the trance that had stolen my mind; it was the sound of a little girl crying. I tried to gather my thoughts and figure out what I was supposed to be doing. I didn't want anyone to catch me standing aorund doing nothing. I was suppoesed to be working. What was it again? Oh. Right. Carts.
I walked towards the buggy rack and, on the other side, there was a wom
EmptySometimes it seems like no matter how hard I try to keep them together, things just keep falling apart. What can I do to fix it? I cry. I cry until there is no more pain. I cry until there is nothing left to feel. I cry until there is nothing left to cry for. I cry until there is just nothing left. If I'm so empty, then why do I feel so full?
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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