MischaLecter

Poetry
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2002-05-29 18:42:57 (UTC)

To Be Continued

Frequently, I stand at a fork
In a fork in a fork in the road of life
What makes the endeavor any more or less important
The repition, the dark truth of my psyche.
It's all so pale, as my surroundings set in
So wrong of me to choose, now..
While life is till recooperating
For once, let's hope the past doesn't lead
To that hideous pool
The energy; so familiar - that feeds
Grows wherever I stand
Caution so frequently blows out of control
The tornado created blocks my mind
So devilish
When trust is placed in the wrong hands
Will I be to blame
Will I pay, and suffer, and pick up that knife?
Frequesntly, I just want to stay home
She wants out, she wants to stop
Let her feed on something healthy
For a change
To put a definition on emotion is wrong


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