domingo, 18 de marzo de 2007

Windmill

A windmill
spins in a circle
ever turning
ever moving
it has a purpose
it has a place
it has a name
i have a name
i don't have a purpose
i don't have a place
i don't even turn
i am stuck
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1 comentario:

Jessica Way dijo...

ryan this poem is deep and sad
its awesome

13 de agosto de 2007 a las 4:58 p.m.

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