Kiwi Crocus (cranky__crocus) wrote,
Kiwi Crocus

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It's kind of annoying...

...when I do this. I accidentally wrote another song. Well, it might be a poem. I'm not sure what I'll do with it yet.

The conversation after I showed Kleppy:

UnseenDisaster**: !!!!!
UnseenDisaster**: Go kiwi!
Cranky Crocus: It's good?
UnseenDisaster**: Yes!
Cranky Crocus: Shock! -Wide eyes.- -Prances.-
UnseenDisaster**: hehe
UnseenDisaster**: I really like that.

That makes me happy. Now I'm glad I accidentally wrote it. w00t.

So here it is. (No cuts for you. You haven't heard much from me as far as el-jay goes for quite a while, so husheth. I'm taking the space I deserve in your friends page. =D.)

The Wooden Box.

I once met a girl,
But she didn’t meet me.
I acted like someone else,
Someone I don’t know.

When she walked away I fell.
I fell so hard I thought I hurt the cement
More than I hurt my own knees.
As if that were possible.

I rolled to my side and hugged myself;
It was warmer than I had predicted.
It wasn’t warm enough,
Not when all I was actually was someone else.

How could I feel content, or free,
When I’d trapped myself up in a box?
It was deep inside of me,
But I never cracked open the top.

It’s rotting and rusting.
The wood is softer than my flesh.
It’s disappearing, and when it does
I’ll be free.

Free from what?
Free from my own imprisonment.
Maybe I’ll just put myself back,
And use a metal box. (It’ll last longer.)

When I turn my head to sigh
My breath catches.
There’s another face there,
And it doesn’t belong to me.

It’s the girl that I met that didn’t meet me,
And her hand is by my face to help me up.
What a sweet gesture.
I take the hand and she wipes the tears I didn’t know I shed.

I hear a crack deep inside of me,
And jump at the feeling of spontaneity.
The box finally cracked,
And out I came.

The sun is beautiful this high in the sky.
It doesn’t even measure up to a centimeter of her face.
That creamy skin, those sparkling, smiling eyes.
Maybe she had known me all along.

I smile and it’s the first in what seems like centuries.
Hers magnifies and suddenly we’re skipping
Hand in hand toward the golden fields.
I’m free.

And there we have it. Now back to being happy for once. A few minutes ago I was moping around with a book. w00t for good friends and a keyboard!

'Kaythanksbyyye. ~Cro.
Tags: songs, writing

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