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The Poet's Ardency Headlights flashed like diamonds all through the corruscated streets. The bright lights that flooded the city were intended to keep the darkness at bay, but they ended up merely accentuating it. The spires were tainted with the blood of birds who assumed the streetlights to be stars. The city bustled around with such precision that an outside observer could have carelessly assumed that the individuals all played roles in a greater plan.The individuals themselves guarded their shared secret: there was no greater consciousness among them and certainly no theory of unification. The fact was, each was adrift from each other in the sea of neon, scampering away from the shadows like schools of silver fish. The girl sat at the bus stop, her billowing linen shirt protecting her poorly from the chill. She crossed her arms tightly under her breasts and shut her round blues eyes against the cold.
A curious appraisalWhen I remember my childhood, I remember elementary school. And, simply because of who I am, I must also recall intense loneliness more than anything else. I remember hiding in the corner and hoping no one would ever notice me. I felt it was better just to watch. There's a lot of power in watching. It was the only power I had and I lorded it over everyone.I would watch the other boys play, tumbling around like lunatics. I resented their grubby smiles, as I had always been expected to behave in a similar manner, but tended to be what my mother would describe, depending on her mood, as 'sensitive' or 'wimpish'. I would watch the leaves fall from the trees as children pulled down the branches, taking merriment I could not fathom in their wanton destruction. I would watch a girl who also sat alone. And I would think that maybe she, too, hoped that no one would notice her. Her name was Alivia. All through recess and all through class she would draw, and I cannot burn the images