'Weary face.'
By blackheart
As i sharpen my pencil, i think... About all the lines upon your face, That i’m about to draw. With lead on the page, i realise my rage, As i put pencil lines round for your jaw. So fragile now, Your eyes seem to fade, Falling through grey, Into a far blacker place. Sadness becomes them, Your wrinkles roll down. Leaving nothing behind, But a sad growing frown. Like a concrete slab, Crazy paving for skin. Wisps of white and grey, Wiry and thin. As i sharpen my pencil, i think... Written March 6th, 2002 © on Mar 06 2002 04:09 AM PST, harry luck 0 • 10
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"As i sharpen my pencil,..."