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    Saturday, December 13, 2008

    jealousy lies where their fingers wrap around each other

    i cannot force these hands to make things that cannot be made
    but i will try to force them to do things that they were not made to do
    i'm pushing so hard these days to feel anything
    anything with these hands
    the same hands that never gave me a talent
    and are hard enough to look at
    these hands that could not be collegiate
    could not make symphonies
    could not write the words worth reading
    could not make a better daughter
    could not stop you form poisoning yourself
    could not reach fourpoint "oh"
    these hands that hold everything worth wanting
    but nothing inside
    the hands that have no others to hold
    smash them and they will break into a million pieces
    because they are hollow these days
    and i cannot do anything or say anything that will fill them
    just empty
    like porcelain figures
    along with this face
    they're the same
    painted beauty on the outside
    beautiful dolls
    with frills and diamonds
    but on the inside
    no color
    and cold
    and hollow
    sitting on the top shelf collecting dust
    to sit and be admired
    but never touched
    and so everyone heeds this warning
    like i wear it upon this porcelain back with these hollow cold hands

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