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Written while amidst the confusion of the normal teenage mind, I attempted to make a universal approach while still adressing a specific audience. Whether or not I have succeeded is up to you.
Silences that lay too deep within the depths of the night, The same silences that had once been filled with words unsaid, I toss and turn through the hours of darkness, Something that I had never wanted to feel before, The blank space of the page that is yet to be unfolded, The writer has stopped writing; he’s out for a run, Until then, I shall wait for the fateful day, E.L.P March 4, 2001
Make it difficult to sleep all right.
Stays an empty void that appears to be dead.
And yet find nothing that satisfies my losses.
And had never wanted to feel again,
Had crept upon me like the Tiger hiding in his den.
By the story that has unfortunately been left untold.
And I must sit here, frozen, awaiting the return.
When Life is breathed into my dry lungs again.