I stand here at the point of tears. I look at you and thoughts of laughter and ambition spin through my mind; oh what have the years done to that? What painful memories have twisted together to form your present existence of ambiguity? Where is the lighthearted smile I once knew? I look, but only glimps obscure remmants hidden in the corners of your eyes.
Father, grip this wounded soul. Bring him back to you...
Woefully gazing,
She invented a new face.
One of beauty and grace
Without a freckle or a childish feature.
Her hair is twisted and tied,
She has not more time for dolls,
She tosses her youth away,
Yearning for what is to come.
The candle light makes shadows dance
around her room,
A room that still belongs to the girl.
The shadows dance,
The flame flickers.
She gazes,
The face fades.
She is again
The freckled childish face.
