the tomb that has become my heart is heavy with dread

the metal that encases my emotions has become rusted with tears

the dying of my fears whither in the wind of this cold cold winter

what are these things that threaten to crush me

to make me to the thing that I wish never to be

thinking of the things that to me may never be

alone is what i want

to crawl up into a ball of nothing and hide

to be away from accusing glares and their snarling faces

darkness over shadows me as i turn to face what i have become

which is a insecure petty hole of uncertainty

past | present

Bledgirlblue - 2003

2002 Review - 12.20.02

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