I am

September 15, 2008
I am the pair of moldy sneakers
hanging on the telephone wire

I am the spark in arid woods
waiting to start the fire

I am the overcast clouds in gray skies
prepared to ruin your day

I am the hungry seagull on the beach
that will never go away

I am the sound of your favorite record
shattering into a million pieces

I am the mourning of a passing friend
whose pain never ceases

I am the citrus and salt in your open wounds
whose mere existence kills you so

And who are you, I have to ask
I suppose I'll never know

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