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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Biographical · #1310699
Writing seems futile when the writer herself is abstract.
I'm tired of having no meaning
Of seeing
And Being
And Breathing
I write what I see and I think
When I dream
But nobody listens in a world that's asleep

I long for someone to hold hands with
To talk with
And walk with
And drink with
And sleep with
We can dream and I'll mean what they think
But that is no use when there's no one to be with

In a crowd all I am is a concept
A precept
A reject
What a concept
A film on a screen written for a dreamer
I'm ready to leave, you know I will leave her

Find me in a dream
Thinking
Being
Seeing
Dreaming
Dying
Disappearing
© Copyright 2007 Aimee Chicago (youdontknow at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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