Monday, February 19, 2007

This Thing

I'm so tired of feeling so tired all the time
Perhaps not consistant, but often, and unawares
And I'll find myself walking the halls cursing everyone and everything
Yearning, and quite regularily doing so, to collapse in a heap of tears and self-deprecation
I know when I'm on the outside I don't understand it down there
I can't fathom darkness or anything in the shadows
But as soon as I'm not looking I've fallen to the bottom of the pit
Crushed and curled in all aforementioned shade

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