Ovid

Ego, Erus
2002-02-23 18:53:08 (UTC)

Primavera

The spring is nearly upon Me, thoughts and feelings that
were dormant now reach with outstretched limbs...seeking to
penetrate the cold wintery surface of My flesh. Ive managed
to keep these dark seeds buried for so long now. I do
believe Ive forgotten who I am. Or perhaps, who I was ever
supposed to become.


We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight
And yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home

My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find
And yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I'd feel better dead


These lyrics at one point in My life held great meaning.

Now they fall over My inner eyes like the spew of self pity
that I am trying to get out from under.

I want this to be the last day of winter, Im tired of the
long night....Tomorrow...shall be My spring.




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