The Mask I Wear

[honeydumplin]

What was once near ryhme or reason
Poems she could not remember.
Now in a half-filled glass, a season;
Cry out for help last night September.

Below a corner street lamp post
Not unlike the twilight bender,
Lit from the pain and rain, a ghost;
Cry out for help last night September.

Twas not either wherewithal
Nor love of self she wished to injure,
Because her hand held dare, a fall;
Cry out for help last night September.

Inside the phone booth stance on making
Free will another chance to linger,
With which encumbered future faking;
Cry out for help last night September.

Red eyes and nose, her lows and highs
Bred haste at best, its alibis;
But alas this time could not defend her
Cry out for help last night September.

--kd