Freedom
Freedom from myself is what im looking for. This unrealistic life brings me nothing but pain.
Im afraid of myself wanting it just to end this cession of left or right. To be or not to be.
Looking for a finger hole of hope to many cracks that are trying to be plastered and painted.
Mold grows among these crack, my mind filthy thoughts of death, sadness, hopelessness
never to be whole. Broken like a favorite toy you keep for the memories of what it means
to you.
Copyright © Jessica Stepanovsky | Year Posted 2009
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