September 22, 2012
The whisper of the wind

Takes notice I have sinned
Its whisper carries through

Floats up into the blue
Its breath tells a tale

The words have grown so stale
The same old stories getting old

Why can't I seem to break the mold?
The list seems to be growing

Of things I cant stand knowing
Its time to make a final stand

Maybe then my life wont be so bland

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