My past is like a starving dog
As if I'm soaked in meat
I abhor my timing and stumbling
I abhor my timing and falling...
But somewhere, there's a forest
It's calling my name
And someday, I'll find it
That's what I call him
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
January 6th, 2009
Poem by bamboo boy at 8:31 PM
Labels: poem, realisations, relationships, ripped tights
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