this clutter...
this clutter- this panic-
is stilling me quick-
stealing my moments
and killing my wit...
all of the verbals-
the letters and lines-
are stifling my freedom
and cutting my rhymes...
sometimes i'm so fractured-
so fuzzy within-
with all this black echo
that's leaving me thin...
i reach for the beauty-
it fades in life's twist
and floats into nothing
and leaves me in mist...
Joy Weare.
28th July, 2007.
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