When it comes to me.
Music helps (makes) me write (think).
Thursday, March 18, 2010
My last step.
Top of a hill.
I slip.
I slide, I roll.
Mud and rocks, grass and ants.
Bruised. I cut, I bleed.
Broken bones.
Fading in and out.
I breathe my last.
Did I slip?
No.
I took my last step.
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