Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Early morning wisdo... babbling.


His words are like grains of sand, sifting through my fingers. I can never hold them long enough to see whether they hold any truth.
A bitter wind sweeps through my soul.
I grasp the solitary ray the sun punched through a myriad of clouds and clasp it to my shivering heart, desperate for some warmth.
Save me?
But only I can save myself... and it sobers me.

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