Nov Ovem Nine 1st, MMIII


Vision blurs. . .but nothing ever plops onto her palms. . .nothing ever does. Eyes remain overcast. Hands opened to catch the tears. . .but they never comes. They never descend. And her eyed remain eternally overcast

No matter how badly she wanted it, no matter how hard she tried, they never came. The irony in life is when you finally stop resisting and it never comes. When you know what is best, and finally follow it but it is elusive. Shiny, glittering. Right in hand one minute, gone in the next.

The tears. The tears that remove toxins from your body. Medicine. She was too poor to afford the medicine that was the cure for her fatal disease. The one thing that could save her. The tears.

And there was no one to help her.

So she sits by the computer, clinging to her lifeline. Is she dead? She doesn't know. But she knows, at least, that she is dying. Slowly dying. Each sign-off a weight upon the cord, a power surge nearly short circuiting her life-support.

Who is this girl, her face veiled by hair? Who is this girl who speaks with flowery words and in magical sentences? Who is she? What is her story?

She is an enigma, a rubix cube. She is called the Fragile. The Girl Who Spoke in Metaphors. ..with rainbows in her hair. The girl who's eyes are ever clouded. Almost breaking, always holding. The girl who's palms are always wide open, ready to embrace the tears that never came.

Sweet. Perfect. Precious. Fragile.

Lies!

Mishappen, ugly. Curled in upon herself. Broken.

Who wants something broken? That which needs to be fixed? Everyone wants everything to be ready-made. TV dinners, plants, houses. No one wants fixer-uppers. No one wants pain.

NO one wants her.

. . .Truth. . .sad sad truth. . .

Fragile, watch her as she falls apart. . .

It's too late, it's too late.

Fragile.

Vision blurs. . .but nothing drops into her palms. . .nothing ever falls. Her dark eyes are overcast. Perpetually, eternally, always, everlastingly, forever. Forever cloudy. Almost wet. Almost dripping. Hands open to recieve the tears. . .but they never fall. They never fall.

They never fall. . .