Once more
up and about
dragging years and days like a half-shed cape
leaves a sticky trail like a snail's
I don't deserve it, but I survive
even this and that rotting in my private cellar
So this is life
- or is it LIFE?
Never mind, the postman proves my existence
letter by letter by letter from somewhere
I don't know the sender though
never mind, the letters find an adress
somehow that must be mine
somehow I must be me
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© EC
Originally Posted On Site: 2011-07-19 20:50:18
Last Login: 05.22.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 655
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