Thursday, March 17, 2011

Relief




I tank myself,
in distant sense,
to gather what I must.

 I see the wares,
in closeness stare,
to stand for what I trust.

I carry armor,
bright and true,
protecting me from all of you.

 I don't know when,
I don't know why,
my nerves are stirred straight through.

It's sort of strange,
to feel deranged,
but compliment the blue.

I know myself,
and I was Two,
I could not walk away.

An understanding of woeful sense,
making me rather tense,
relief is on its way.
K.A.P.
5/10/2009

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