I can't find the time
to feed my mind lunch
I hear my paranoia growling
existential nonsense is such

so I keep turning round
trying to catch a hold
making my life a dizzy mess
blocking out all I've been told

dying to find myself alive
lost without any control
mixing all my killing colors
into a greyish-brown soul

{you are a ghost to me}

03/24/2005

Posted on 03/25/2005
Copyright © 2024 Shonda Creemer