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Wednesday, September 7, 2005

Desolate Beauty

Life is what you make it,
It is short in its longevity
It is danger in its safe havens
It is freedom in the prison of this society
It is what you want it to be.

You cannot tell me that:
You donít feel safe in your insecurity,
You donít feel passion in your hatred
You donít feel exposed in your disguise
Calm in your anger
Happy in your misery.

Your Life walks hand in hand with your Death
And you revel in the idea.
Feel it all, experience the sweet pain, the dark passion,
The freedom of being who you are, who you want to be.


The empty beauty of this picture inspired the poem above. I hope you like it, this is the only draft, written after a hard day, and right before my bed time!

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