Tuesday, June 23, 1998

before they bleed


only one on that lonely highway
and fog crosses my eyes,
one too many cars at the house
and I won’t stop, can’t stand
the smell coming from the backyard
and too bad tired eyes had to sleep
for me, but still awake and of course I
can’t be what I am, but
wounds have scarred
still know they are there
how blind I once was
now I find cuts before they bleed…

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