the circus that is me is profoundly running in my head. 3 rings of unsure certainty plague the very make-up of who I "is". Tired of the habitual yawning my soul has become accustomed to. My brain is full of buttons, yet auto pilot seems to be the most shiny. A star has no need to try and, well...shine. So why do I find myself in the awe and splendor of "maybe they'll notice me if I".... tears are a waste of time...my eyes sweat instead. how does one become an enigma unto themselves? The bottomless pit of I must have a a firm foundation of which I can stand. For if we don't stand...(falling)(falling)(falling)(falling)(falling)...
so I choose, with every bit of "me" I can muster...no longer sharing my dreams for free...letting them wane in the wind....from now on I choose....to
stand.
^_^
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