Saturday, August 20, 2011

Judging Books

Behind my smile there is not always joy.

Triumphant I strive to be, failing I begin to see.
Emotions inside of me. Create my world a Symphony.

When all that's left is apathy.
People dying unnecessarily.

Think myself to grow some wings, to realize I need hands to heal some things.

Us as beings fall flailing out righteously, to feel a little consistency.

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