random people
coming to talk
about the question
what is the meaning of life
simply what we make of it
all the same
things happen
every time I come here
what I say
many things
that may not make sense
I know you try to understand
up straight
as an arrow
piercing my heart felt
apology to those I have
hurt many times
running out of space
traveling many miles
away from where
I began this journey
so long ago it seems
I cannot start over
my head aches a bit
wish I could hear myself think
I knew what I wanted to say
not too far away to make a call
me soft but I do not know why
I say certain things and
act as if I do not know the answers
to my own question
everything I see and hear
sitting again night after lonely night
they say many things
have not seen them yet
do know what I want to understand
sad at times
only what we make of it
seems as though
constantly swinging
rope to rope in a strange
emotional jungle
I must have created it. . .
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