Sunday, August 10, 2008

Morning

It is dark,
I am cold.
I’m sitting in the park,
I feel so bold.

It is grey,
I’m still cold.
I don’t feel gay.
I don’t feel bold.

The sky is pink,
I am scarred.
I need to think,
I think I drew the death card.

It is light,
and I lost the fight.

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