Tuesday, December 17, 2013


I keep saying,
I wish life made sense.
But maybe it does,
And I just don't want to know
The kind of sense it makes;

Jump and you will fall
Cut and you will bleed
Jerk and you will come.
All things
To be expected.

Is that the kind of life
I am leading? Surprised
At my own falling,
Bleeding, coming?

I had hoped maybe I
Was trying to do something
A little different,
But the floor, my veins,
And my palms
May tell
A different story.

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