Just might be scripture
The weeks in between work, the months.
The days when all I can say is
-I am a writer,
My soul, my dead soul.
The days that are blank and un-inspired,
The thousands of more worthy!
I explain to them,
Over and over,
“my life is film!”
they say I have too high of an opinion of myself.
The could be right.
They write of soul
of love
of life
of holes
A friend once described my life as digging a hole and filling it back in.
A friend once said “you’re a fool.”
I can’t remember what I say…
Never did I say I want to be.
I did not ask to be born.
As far as I can remember
At least
At last hour of breath… maybe.
Read this one
- Axanderdeath
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- Lightning Rod
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- billectric
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