When unicorns were still possible; When the purpose of knees was to be skinned; During that summer- Which may never have been at all; But which has become more real than the one that was-
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Silent Torment
I write in fear....
Fear of what is left unsaid will only build inside.
Unspoken it will slowly destroy me.
With this knowledge, why does this blank page intimidate me?
Could it be the possibility of seeing my own thoughts before my eyes turn them into reality?
Fear of what is left unsaid will only build inside.
Unspoken it will slowly destroy me.
With this knowledge, why does this blank page intimidate me?
Could it be the possibility of seeing my own thoughts before my eyes turn them into reality?
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