Untitled
It's clear as an empty whiskey jar
I have changed many forms
I woke up just to take in
Someone else's breath to carry me
Through the lengthy wait and preceeding reputation
And though I am angry, hateful
I can feel things like no one else
It taunts me with a wicked laughter
It breaks me with a dreadful reminder
That I am not yet dead and not yet loved
Copyright © Charles Grisham | Year Posted 2005
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