Mad Season

trying to find the answer to an unasked question, because its always Mad Season where I live.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

somehow I don't feel sorry for you
can't correct you
can't think that weeping would make any difference
somehow you've melted down
there was nothing there after all
but pieces of shrapnel you wished you weren't.

stripping it all down,
my mind is anesthed
my memories are numb and fade just like any one would want.
and
she
is
always
the truth,
more than I am.

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