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Friday, May 11, 2012

The Ball

Standing in a crowded room all alone. Laughing as the show plays on. Tears trickle beneath the laughter. Unseen. Blend. Belong. Supress the desire to scream. Would it matter if it did? Would it cause a scene? Chameleon, conceal every bit of real. Blend. Belong. This won't last that long. Smile. Nod. Grace, fake it, hold still, don't fall. Standing in a crowded room all alone. For a moment, did you feel it? What was that? You belonged? No. Not really. Thank God, it's done. Get me out of these clothes! Layers of artificial. Nothing in this place is real. Smoke and mirrors. Plastic people. Just for a moment I want to feel real. Not a golden child. No precious metal at birth. No grande giveaway in a little white church. Smoke and mirrors trying to pretend. In the end just a fallen, forgotten, waste of flesh again. Standing in a crowded room. Alone. 
(C) RM Brandon 2012

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