All your abusement
you use as amusement
I find it hard to see
I find it hard to see
and the way your hands grow
from the bitter heat
around my feet
when I try to leave
You just have to let me go
I have no complications
My feathered face for flying
and my wings are slowly dying, slow
Please let me go
I have no clear directions
I'm just individual sections
sewn in different shapes than you.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
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