Thursday, September 12, 2013

Poem 4

When will I stand and fight?
When will I stop stepping aside?
When will I speak the truth?

After I am gone and dead?
After I'be been 6 feet under?
After my will's been read?

I'm tired of hiding.
I'm tired of pushing away.
I'm tired of running.

I want to stop, to turn back the clock.
I want to stop, with screams that burn my lungs.
I want to stop, feel life, and really be alive.

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