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Poem 1: A Beginning

I sat and I wondered, to myself in my head, what shall I do before going to bed? "There's not much day left; there's no time ...

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Poem 185: Torn Self

My other half is certain.
She is sure in her direction.
She moves with ease, that half of me.
But this half is unsure.

That half would now be running
sprinting, gliding, never walking
but it's harnessed tight in certain fright
by other half unsure. 

Torn self, soon to be waking
from a dream state of their making
and when I do, my halves will stand
dividing me in two.


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