The untitled one
DescriptionI have no name.
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A single flower, pink and blooming, in the new spring air. Rocks sit patiently around it, barely noticing it's there. On the worn street, a car passes by. A girl, not ten, sits inside. On a phone she texts and texts, though so young, she craves for sex. For love to take her, and false beliefs, those grand plans, she creates in sleep. (meh, couldn't think of the right word) The men to hold her, keep her safe, And yet, she had no idea she'd be a slave. Not to men, but to her kind, those ones that speak as one mind. She grades herself, based on superficials, A world black and white, no colored pencils. To fly, she thinks is overrated. To talk to lowers, she would be hated. So text and text, with no new information, and hope it holds out to a recharge station. Or hope and hope, that your car swerves, and kills you now, on those curves. This world, to you might not be so grand, as bleak and dead, just like shifting sands. She may not see it, may not ever, but she could, if she'd look past never. Doom awaits, that is certain, but the time can change, hold closed the curtain. You curse and blame, in this life, you aren't so different, from those ones with the knife. But you are, in a sense, oh you are, so much different. This dark you see, you try to ignore, even while it beats you bloody, red and sore. You do your best, just not to see, that to fix this mess, you can't trust me. You think it's not you, no who should, can you help the world, I think you could. But you look past, yes you do, and this is how, I relate her to you.