I saw the look in his eyes
They were swimming in pure disgust
Just about how my soul looks through steamy, shattered glass
Who could climb this faulty tower
When it is crumbling into the sea
Less than perfect, less than nothing
Less than what I dream to be
Hide myself in creative netting
Tiptoe around flatscreen memories
Open, spilling over
With no one around to see

08/31/2002

Posted on 08/31/2002
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