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Everything I do not know is scribed in pages floating on street corners of every city in the whole wide world. Strangers know more about his love than I do. He cannot talk too loud or I may hear, and I run after these verses like live words can save my soul or better yet, **** it. It is the worst case scenario. My knees hit the concrete, I am unloved. I am a secret one that cannot be articulated, written down for my presence is like a funeral. Not the birth of something, rather a death a lack swimming internationally. Everything I do not know is everything that everyone else already does – whispering more beautiful secrets.
0
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
poem from a stranger
Everything I do not know is scribed in pages floating on street corners of every city in the whole wide world. Strangers know more about his love than I do. He cannot talk too loud or I may hear, and I run after these verses like live words can save my soul or better yet, **** it. It is the worst case scenario. My knees hit the concrete, I am unloved. I am a secret one that cannot be articulated, written down for my presence is like a funeral. Not the birth of something, rather a death a lack swimming internationally. Everything I do not know is everything that everyone else already does – whispering more beautiful secrets.
sarina
Written by
American
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
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