Bipolar explorer finding sun on winter days when the icicles won't melt
or trapped in a loveless marriage to the rites of springtime when she gives you something cold to mourn
Always hiding behind the opposites and the contradictions of what you call home, and love, and friendship
Meant to run towards in a time of need, but instead cast a looming shadow in the setting sun all the way down to the end of the sidewalk, looking long, and distorted, and unfamiliar
Wayward traveller, never on the right road, but always a messenger to the stars in the sky
delivering news for some to hear and all to see reflected in the dangerous eyes of a black river
Caught running between the enticing, lavish highs and the eloquent lows, masked in the Cheshire Cat's brilliant smile
From beneath the wet night comes a different, quiet pain, expected to be endured in the dark or below harsh florescent lights that paint the creases in your face as you count white teeth that no one else can ever admire
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