Shove the needle through my skin,
sew me up another scar.
I wear them like battle wounds,
proudly on my shoulders,
as the medals on a soldiers chest.

Charity loves company,
for I am the rebel for that particular road.
Pack strapped to my back,
wandering the trails of deceit and misconception,
finding the route that will lead me home.

With the warm trickle sunshine upon my face,
as my lovers tears cried their last goodbye's,
I fade away to memory.
A habitual formation of precognitive response,
a sensual misplacement.

With the boom, boom, boom of the drum,
the rhythmic sounds never cease the rustling,
beneath my skin.
My feet dance to the invisible song,
never stopping once for rest.

09/28/2001

Posted on 09/28/2001
Copyright © 2025 Stephanie Myers