Title: Sculptureof 100/F
Author: Heather P.

To be temperate,
Is not to dream.
I have never tried to be warm,
Nor cool to the touch.
Somehow, I'm not sure when,
I became me,
With fiery laughter,
And icy tears.

Twenty years old,
And I am tired.
I'm just so...
Weary from sadness,
Sick of wiping away tears in the dark,
And exhausted of living only for others.

I try.
I fail sometimes.
I'm not strong enough to pretend,
That I am not stung and hurt by those ugly words.

But really...I'm thankful for being weak....
Some people in this world can't feel at all.
(My heart isn't that cold.)

I'm not done, yet.
But I have to go.
This was a moment of life,
That just raced by.
You know....
There was a truth to that moment,
I know.
(A fire too, I think.)