Thursday, November 5, 2009

They Say I Am A Hope(less Romantic)

What is this?
What hopes have I got myself into this time?
Your hair is growing old with this moment
And here we are, falling away like leaves upon a dead ground.
I desperately count my worries away
For if I shall fall asleep with them,
I always wake up on the wrong side.
I scream the quietest secret
For no one can know

My mind observes
And states:
"What is this?"

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