søndag 27. februar 2011

Fiona

She
wasn't sure what she wanted, but was certain
what she'd get.
She was
the mirror watching herself
and wrote her own part in the play
called life.
Moving was staying
alive and that
annoying whisper of faint memories was
quelled by continuous action.
A collector of
things she did not want,she'd
leave everything behind to stay
ahead of herself.

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