Writing is like cooking, if you spill something, you should make it look like part of the act.
–John Keeble–

Thursday, January 21, 2010

poem... that was created by a few random lines

this poem sound depressing... but its what came out


I cannot fight
My enemy I cannot see
Big, looming, out there

A friend killed
I’ve seen the worse
Tears, fear, I can be strong

I have done wrong
So many lives
Mine so small

The enemy is me
Grief, pain, life
I would choose the same again

The struggle to win
A life stooped
All ashes and dust

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