Reaching out beyond the dream of what you thought was real, spinning on this ball of life, head now under heel. Ready to die, to live this life so raw, alive on ledge- dancing, hurling, freeing your soul to finally stretch the edge.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Stunted

I write what I write
whether it's right or wrong

I fit words that don't rhyme
into every damn song

I hear pounding between
the beats of your drum

In every day, minute and hour
we're so different, yet one

So why do you tell me
that I'm doing it wrong when

Your rigid desires deny you
the beat of our song




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