September 25, 2009
I used to worry
about making sense
giving each word a purpose
making each truth true
but now my words are a jumble
they run into each other
and collide
they stumble and stutter as I fumble
for the meanings behind
my truths that contain lies
and my lies that contain truths
as I search for the answer within
I find hidden secrets
but no answers
desires but not proof
of why I should bother
speaking words with clarity and precision
what the purpose is
of caring enough to try
to live in madness

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