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Philosophical cow dung on the life of little Ms. Imperfectly Fine.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Without me

Did I ask for that my lovesick king?
I stuffed my fear inside you.
Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for yourself.
I move to run for my soul.

I bid so long, you’ve chased this far.
My eyes can be confused just as I have been amused.
Should you still believe in me?
Should you stop?

Live with my shattered dreams.
Love with my broken heart.
You can live without me.