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repressed depressed can't get these ideas out of my head
the threshold of pain in my chest makes me think of death
can pain be suppressed by the press of hot iron to a wrist
is this how life should be or is this how life is
cant take lying low anymore because i am
can't make, can't show no more because of them
can't be myself cant get out of this hell
can't say what i do cant do what i want because
its clear i fear theyll hear that the image
portrayed isnt the way i really am because i am

because i write about everything but nothing at all.
i speak about everything but share none.
i hold nothing back but i let nothing out.
i'm just so tired now.

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Posted by Kim @ 01:18 PM PST

2 have spoken

that's weird that you should write a poem, coincidence that, last night, after i finished talking to you, i wrote the first poem that, after writing it, said, ya know, that's not half bad

Posted by Trevor [virtual dwelling] @ 11/19/2001 05:44 PM PST

i feel partially for keeping you up late last night, waving your arms around so I could see how King Tut danced back in the day....

Posted by Jesse [virtual dwelling] @ 11/19/2001 02:43 PM PST