confessions of a never ceasing mind
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2004-03-06 19:33:21 (UTC)

talking to the wind

I cry out in the night, in the darkness, broken and scared
heart rent and torn. The wind carries my voice to
somewhere unknown.

You say you can help me, heal the pain, tend the
scars....should I bear them? You say that time heals,
soothes the wounds. I say that time makes them irritated
and fester. and yet I hold on to this hope, looking into
your soul, like a child that is lost and is offered a way
out by a stranger. will the wind tell you the whispers I
have made into the darkest nights? Will the breeze carry
my heart's cry to you?