Delicate Sitiuations Like These:

Name: Roxanna Johnson My salty texture run's down a bleak and remoarseful canvas. I have felt as if my only destiny is too be nothing but this. A lone travelor in times of grief. A delicate hand swips at my presence, I dodge my routine course, and make my way down a crimson cheek bone. Sobs become repetitive and i feel as If i'll always be alone. If i'll only make an entrance when your heart aches, and your world swirls out of control. Funerals are the hardest to attend Especially when i see your eyes travel down to the pale face laying motionless. Your father lies in a desolate box stiff and cold. But your heart yearns to wipe away the warm tears streaming like small mirrors, reflecting this cold image harvesting your soul. I reach the end of my journey and decend towards the floor. Once more I have ended up discarded and rejected, because no one wants my cold, salty presence to linger. Until your heart beckons me once again good bye...