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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1562040-Not-Quite-Right
Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #1562040
Scared of your own insanity..
Not entirely connected with her own actions, she watches herself, ashamed.
She sees a girl, with a permanent grin almost flying down the street.
High as a kite, she stops, literally to hug a tree and breathe in the heady scent of the flowers

Aimlessly twirling, balancing her white soles delicately, falling over she picks herself up and giggles
Her laughter rings out in the silence of the frosty air, made up of notes of pure delight
She is alone, whispering, in deep awe of all nature that surrounds her.
In love, with the humble gum leaf she pauses and stroking it delicately with her lips she takes off again.
A whirlwind of energy

Rosy cheeked, she reaches behind her head and lets her wild mane of rich brown hair tumble down around her shoulders. It streams out behind her as she runs. Light footed she moves swiftly
Wandering wherever she might choose

Yes, she is ashamed, frightened even.
Knowing that the cries of delight are not real
That any minute she will surrender to the blackness of her soul that threatens to engulf her
That the car she just flew out of the way of, will not miss her next time
That this dangerous game she plays has to end
She’s swinging from high to low and getting reckless
Bold

As she laughs she is invincible, nothing can stop her and she revels in her insanity
She taunts Hades with her quick step and open hand.
But when the clouds overshadow her burning fervour
she perceives her own fragility, but is no longer able to care, willing the black night to consume her.
So now she has become this untamed gypsy child who one minute being passionate and effervescent
Is the next despondent and neglected. Alone and drowning in her own emotions,
Praying for  a quick end.

 
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1562040-Not-Quite-Right