stitched_up_mew (stitched_up_mew) wrote in prose_run_mad,
stitched_up_mew
stitched_up_mew
prose_run_mad

Paper and Chalk

Purest white, 
Clouds gone forever gray
Thin white lines
Mark the edges of my sanity 
Ripped and torn,
Loved to death,
I propose an idea
And let it take flight
Written on torn sheets of paper
From my mind
I believe in those words
The ones I wrote so long ago 
With paper
And chalk
I let them blossom,
I let them thrive
Watered, loved and fed them
I watched them grow old
And grey
And finally die
Scraps fluttering about, 
Like ashes in the wind
They were the idle musings
Of a silly, little girl
The symbolic birth
Of her freedom of thought
And the death of the sheep
And watching the flames eat
The chalk and the paper
I feel hopeless
Surely there are things I cannot control
But by committing those simple words to memory
I can bask forever in the simple elegance left behind
Silvery dust,
And tinted college-ruled
 I feel for the words
That died on that day
And letting myself be calmed
I picture them
And it hurts no more
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