She’s drinking on the balcony
her eyes don’t concern the sights they feed
And her right to turn
into something better
gets swallowed with every drip she drinks.

I saw the same darkened eyes today
but never tucked into the same face
A million repeats of that glamour, that shame
and that little itch of hate
when those eyes were layed on me.

Will I be strong enough one day
to look at a mirror and say
‘This is good enough.
I’m happy with what I see.’
?

She throws drinks from the balcony
and hopes she’ll make the cement bleed
If we were friends, I’d be safe to see
that noone will die exactly like me.

April 4 2009