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Scribbling
March 7, 2009
Scribbling in my diary
Praying this art could ever
Save a wretch like me
Hoping to break free
From what they made
Hurricanes and tidal waves
Their six feet deep grave mistakes
The thoughts that keep
You at night awake
This is what I am
Searching for a definition
Of a soul
That can't be found
In any dictionary
So I turned and ran to poetry
To self explicate and self evaluate
Much mare easier said than done
When you're snapping back to reality
With the sting of a fresh wound
Somewhere deep inside
You feel number than expected
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