Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
No Forward
I love the vines twisting and turning,
Pulling me apart,
And pulling me back.
They grasp me tight,
Like a mothers embrace.
Don't let me go.
I have no forward,
I seem to go backwards only.
I'm in a garden of remorse,
Comfortable in unruly weeds
And destined to not come out of this fog.
I am so warm,
Waiting for the sun to hit me,
So I, too, can bloom
Like the roses, like the ferns...
July 13, 2009
Pulling me apart,
And pulling me back.
They grasp me tight,
Like a mothers embrace.
Don't let me go.
I have no forward,
I seem to go backwards only.
I'm in a garden of remorse,
Comfortable in unruly weeds
And destined to not come out of this fog.
I am so warm,
Waiting for the sun to hit me,
So I, too, can bloom
Like the roses, like the ferns...
July 13, 2009
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