wow its early in the mornin

[tacobelle4]

Not the subject of your poems,
Not the angel of your dreams,
this is not the face you see
in your quiet blissful peace...
Not the one you long to hold,
or the one at your hearts door.
nor is this the warm hand
in the cold you reach out for.
For this is the face,
Behind the face
of the keeper of the key.
She's found her way into your heart
one step ahead of me.
I'm the pretty girl who fades away,
When beautiful comes around
Her radiant smile clouds your veiw,
so you cant see my frown.
Little Child's bright red eyes,
stain tear trails down her cheeks.
"Mommy My silver medal shoulda been gold!"
she pouts in the backseat.
Im not so little anymore.
the silver medal's now coated in rust.
A perfect match to the tarnished spot,
of second place in your heart.