it's a delicate balance
that we wake through every day
the promise of ruin
is the only truth
and we keep it at bay
like a child
swinging a stick at the rain
it's really a hopeless world to live in
to die in
but not to write in
why not loose our minds in flight
and if they flock
then that's just great
and if they break
that too
Monday, May 10, 2010
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