Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

A cup half full

The mental scars flavor
My mind and treat the
Issues within as poison,
Quick to expel them.
I'm an addict to circumstance,
Always withdrawling from the
Disappointments that go missing;
Something I'm used to, a
Magician so quick to be scarce.
I'm charring on the inside,
My outsides no longer matching
What qualifies as normal.
I somehow manage to mosey
Along, my legs difficult to move
And my throat swollen from
All the words I yearn to say
But got stuck on the way out.

11-18-09


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A cup half full

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