"When we can no longer dream, we die" -Emma Goldman

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

I'm broken and I don't know why
I hide from myself and the gnats inside my brain
by laughing, smiling, cheering, masking
I see through tattered window panes
I feel everything
My hand itches so bad for that
There's a point where the ruler snaps but I'm folded in half

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