I'm no poet.
Thursday. 2.12.09 6:59 pm
It's funny how many things can turn on you.
Your words are used against you.
Your wishes on birthday cakes and shooting stars and 11:11 are purposely misinterpreted.
Twisted like a tiny spiral ladder of DNA.
You'd never know that this was what you'd hoped for.
You'd never realize that this was your wish, simply masked with a different material.
Empty words hold empty meanings.
I am not strong enough to turn off your porch light.
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