Thursday, June 7, 2007

Shelves and shelves of unread books, 
Posturing in the light of expectation.
Forever wetting my tongue on a worn golden rim. 
Dying against a feminine grindstone. 
A mockery of life, 
A failed student, 
A failed lover.
A blank page with too many authors. 
A distant mother on the edge of existence.
That is who I am.

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