Sunday, September 05, 2004

Oh Dear Me

Getting all poetic lately. Good god, I must be depressed.
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[3]
it's in my face
yet ungraspable
for it's not mine
to claim.

i reach out
but skies are untouchable
so shall i wait
for the cotton clouds
to kiss the tip of my nose
or sprout wings to meet them?
in that same clear sky
skydivers are liberated
for a moment too short
they'd leap again and again
just for that sugar rush
even when pain may meet them.

hurting is no longer pitch black
but a hybrid of colours
weaving out and in.

upon the dewy grass
under the sapphire sky
i am still.

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