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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #674396
All my angst is rooted in one something
I think of these things-
everyday, I think of them.
Such sweetness that envelops me
despite they're not always sweet.

Or are they?
I wonder often 'bout that,
as one cradles me in a way
unique to its giver.

Reminds me of so many things,
from the angst of innocence
and the turbulent journey
to the abyss of love.

Then I remember the confusion
which they bring with them,
as I'm always finding myself
wondering what happened.

Yet all of them are so different,
each causing a different kind of confusion...

Must be the case now,
as I wander alone
through my life,
completely distracted.

As I take the time to stand,
I'm tackled and fallen.
Who is this soul
that does it to me?

This seemingly friendly embrace repeats,
making me wonder why it is;
but now I've fallen
because I dared to wonder.

Who is this soul
that does it to me?
I only hope for the best,
that I don't repeat my mistakes.

Such innocent touches they seem,
yet they wreck me, and I'm left
wondering why when in fact
I shouldn't wonder at all.
© Copyright 2003 Elisa: Snowman Stik (soledad_moon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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