Thursday, April 7, 2011

April:

Struggle stands,
So fluid,
Brought to the point.
With muscle sinew,
And tendons smooth.

My perspiration dripping,
Staining each breath.
A false sense of hope.
That I hope, beyond hope,
To move beyond these boundaries.
This constraint of my mind,
And restriction of our soul.
That it would come to this,
You and I.
May it be that,
 A heaven is our guide.

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