She's Gone.

The distance she walks, the further away she becomes from the true meaning she has longed for. Days pass by like leaves flowing in the river downstream uptown. As spring sets in the city's glamorous evening incandescence, there is no Bright Lights shining tonight. Instead a yearning voice whispering a desperate cry for more then previous assistance in the past. Her patience is running out of the track like the tape runs out of a DVD. A romantic novelty is overtaken by the tragedy from uncontrollable, undeniable, misfortune circumstantial fixation.

The shadows enlargement overpowers her heart as colors venously slither away from her soul. 67 pieces erroneously fitted faced like a puzzles worst nightmare murmurs, 'The pieces don't fit here anymore.' Pain isn't premeditated, it's prescribed. What more can she do, because there's nothing left to say. She can't repair something she didn't break, nor can she replace what she never had. Tomorrow isn't a new day, it's a repeat of what happened yesterday. It's the feeling from the first day. She'll walk until the end of days searching for meaning while everyone searches for her. What they don't know is, She can't be found if she was never lost.