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Too Tired for a Title (Free verse) by woodstock20000

My soul, my center, my ground has left me. I am a empty pot, which serves no purpose, but to sit there on it's shelf, worthless. Neither life nor death will welcome me; not even the words come easily anymore. My body cries for rest from it's abuses, but my mind refuses... Until I find my peace.

zodiac 10-Jun-05/11:54 PM
I wouldn't have believed it, but reading a poem about being too tired to write well is about as exciting as watching a person too tired to move piss his pants on my couch.




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