Friday, March 25, 2005

Broken glass (rough)

Bout- depression

I see the world through a borken glass,
Where am I? What is this heavy mass,
On my heart?
Is that grief? Consume you me?
Where's salvation? I cannot sense,
What is this which blinds me?
Dare I give in, give up?
Should I fight, that be right?
The thin sheet refuses to break...

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