Poetry For Our Time

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason. -Novalis

One way or another

with one comment

You told me you wanted to die,

and the only thing I can think to do

is to listen to you smoke cigarette after cigarette,

killing time

until the mood passes.

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Written by cd40

February 5, 2009 at 5:46 am

Posted in Uncategorized

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One Response

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  1. i love this. A lot.

    saraj2300

    February 5, 2009 at 6:38 am


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