'All pasts are like poems; one can derive a thousand things, but not live in them' John Fowles

Saturday, November 13, 2004

-___-'''

Hmm recieved flak + compliments about my new hairstyle. People, I like it ok so who cares what YOU think anyway.

Blah blah blah... me's totally incoherent now. I'm bushed with a capital B, still very much Orange, and Restless, plus Erratic and Disillusioned. Heh notice that spelt BORED. Wow I'm so bored I could come up with something so completely irrelevant. But not exactly though. Right. Dunno what I'm rambling on and on about. *tears hair out* Wait I cannot. I've just had it cut. Ha-ha-ha-ha. -__-'''

You left me there
out in the sun
right in the snow
And what was that supposed to show,
that you could shoulder any blow?
You didn't take me along
upwards to your heaven
downwards to your haven
Pray, was I so very blind
to have been disillusioned
by your fairytale?
I didn't believe so.
Because I followed wherever you went
Because I tried to put out the sun
and thaw out the snow.
Is it working
Who am I kidding?
That's easy.
Because in the end
I'm fooling me.

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