May 10, 2006 - Wednesday
Strangely Beautiful
I let my imagination shift me back in time
My memories are much like a library of unread books
I sit knitting the strands of my soul with the yarn my
Grandma used for sweaters.
As I begin to unravel the riddle of my past
I know what I ought to do.
I wipe the chalky memories from the blackboard.
Distracted by my thoughts,
I only come across inadequate words to describe how strangely beautiful
I really am.
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