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Listen for it. Whats trying to be found, it was within grasp, but lost when not put to use. Where is it? Why won’t it come back? Insanity is beginning to creep with out it please come back                                                                                                                                                       to me...                                                                                                                                                before I lose myself with you. All that's left is apologies and tithes, amends that should have been extended long ago. Words with out direction that need to spoken.                                                                                                                                      I feel you near but constantly                                                                                                                                you remain evasive. Constantly craving our past, when you would drift to the edge, tip forward showcases, and present the different reality                                                                                                                     of who I am.
0
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
I've lost my voice in poetry...I think.
Listen for it. Whats trying to be found, it was within grasp, but lost when not put to use. Where is it? Why won’t it come back? Insanity is beginning to creep with out it please come back                                                                                                                                                       to me...                                                                                                                                                before I lose myself with you. All that's left is apologies and tithes, amends that should have been extended long ago. Words with out direction that need to spoken.                                                                                                                                      I feel you near but constantly                                                                                                                                you remain evasive. Constantly craving our past, when you would drift to the edge, tip forward showcases, and present the different reality                                                                                                                     of who I am.
shukorina
Written by
Eritrean
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
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