Wednesday, October 19, 2005


I guess the winter makes you laught a little slower makes you talk a little slower about things you couldn't show him mamybe this year will be better than the last year I can't remember all those times I tried to tell myself to hold on to this moments as they pass ... I must have read a thousand poems in that time trying to find myself in all those words I used to know everything about who I was But what is that? When you don't even know what or who you'll become And if everything were to change? What goodis there in knowing who you are?


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