Thursday, April 22, 2010

asking for forgiveness when you know not what you're doing

the end is near
the end is clear
we part
like broken ends of a single strand of hair we didn't care for in time. you know. when it would have mattered.
it is the end, my dear,
we are talking about the end here.

we grieve
we mope
we sulk
we weep
we skulk
we leave

the end i fear,
that end is here
my dear.

ill prepared, incapacitated, in denial,
we think of new beginnings.

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