Sun, 02/09/2014 - 04:24 -- Inarke

We are but paper

Floating through the winds of life

Our skin crinkling and tearing


There are words which are forgotten

Carved and sunken in our flesh

Speaking of our truths


Sometimes we turn 

We remember

Those words of love


And we hurriedly fly

So we may share these scrawlings 

These feelings


For we have naught but our little paper lives, and love must be shared in order to be felt


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