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Aug 2015
I can feel a pull to something and I don’t know what it is.
Too often I’ve hidden behind my words
time after time
I’ve made rhymes I don’t mean
my mind has spilled without my permission;
something about it feels right
but my heart might be wrong.
I always wanted to lay out my feelings one by one
but they’re tangled like headphones in my pocket.
I’ve always been desperate for questions
but I’ve never given answers,
always felt a bit narcissistic
that one day I could do something fantastic,
and no one would be there to see.
I’ve never understood the meaning of the word “me”,
and believe me I’ve tried
always laughed at people hiding,
“finding” themselves,
I don’t know why I’m giving directions
when I’m more lost than ever.
All I need is to see, and to hear, and to touch and smell and taste,
to base life off what I do
instead of who I am
contradict my own plan, I’ll change my mind next week
but I’m running out of time, life is long
but it feels like winter,
like the days are getting shorter
and I’ll be this confused until I’m gone.
Martha O'Brien
Written by
Martha O'Brien  UK
(UK)   
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