There is a wall here,
Made up of your fear.
Not another tear.
I want it to clear,
And to have you near.
Monday, December 8, 2008
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I used to think I was a ghost, and that no one knew me, but I am as transparent as the air you breathe. I don’t care about making it big anymore. Now I just want something, anything, to make sense. Maybe some day I will know my purpose, and when that day comes, I just hope I’m still sane enough to help.
1 comment:
I love your poems Mal, but I want to find out what is going on with you in a non verse way! It's killing me. I hope all is well.
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