Tuesday, August 30, 2011


The clock ticks slowly off its time
the darkness folds in upon me
I feel so less than perfect be
But broken verse and useless rhyme

How can I hold such value now
I am have no good or worth to be
I shouldst but go and let life move on
What right should I to exist at all?

Oh for the morn when I saw see
I have some value left to me
I want not to live under this decree
That I should suffer less
The night and all its doubting bring
but alas I am not the best.

- Trish 2011

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