Tuesday, July 23, 2002

weak like a soft grass, cant even stand up to the breeze
nothing like air, dissappearing on a cold day
dark and empty like that place you could never go when you were young
too scary to venture in, 'what if i don't come out?'

see it? its dark but its strangely warm
maybe it's comfy
maybe you want to stay a while
maybe you can find a place just for you

lost in all the words and phrases
looking for the feelings, cant find them here
digging and digging, sorting through the mess
steel seems soft and just like home

it stings and it aches and it hurts
but in the end there is really nothing
she is really nothing
its all superficial, whats put out

its the things you put in that are real

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