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Tuesday, April 09, 2002
I've recently reminded myself of a secret, personal past that I've never really bothered to share with anyone. I wrote this about my memories:
untitled
A numbing haze hangs over all.
A flickering shadow on the wall
Like a figurine that is back-lit by a spark
You find it's easier on your back
When the world around is tinted black
But Morning is lighting your sanctuary, dark.
And it's hard to get out of bed
When the voice inside your head
Is telling you there's nothing to live for today.
Motivation is wearing thin,
Sinking further down and further in
To a white inside that is quickly turning grey.
The shower walls are falling down.
They crumble on your lathered crown.
Self-hatred and fear form a thin filmy coat.
Friction; scrub and cleanse the skin
But oily loathing seeps within
Your system clogged from daily dust and mote.
| Mr. McBastard | 12:28 AM | | |
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