I'll write a poem, then head back home.
25-06-2006 02:27
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Inside me there is something
No one knows about
Like a secret
Sometimes it takes over
And I drift back
Deep into darkness.
This secret tells me
I will never grow older
Never laugh with friends
Never be who I should if I ever reveal
Its name.
I cannot tell if it is real
Or if I dream of it
For when it touches me
I drift off
No tears come
No screams
I am wrapped up
In a nightmare of hands
And of fingers
And of small tiny voices in the woods.
So wrong
So beautiful
So bad
So me.
I have to go home. Now. It is too dark. This is not a nice place to me right now.
вверх^
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