But not the editor inside
my bashed-up mind.
That editor kills me.
I want a good editor
who loves me
for who
I am.
That is all.
(An editor who likes brevity.)
But not the editor inside
my bashed-up mind.
That editor kills me.
I want a good editor
who loves me
for who
I am.
That is all.
(An editor who likes brevity.)
Depression, Failure, Fear, Idealism, Isolation, Love, Poems, Poetry, Safe Places, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on June 29, 2011, 10:57 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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Stillfugue |
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#1 by pattisj on June 29, 2011 - 11:07 pm
Surely there is one who will fit the bill perfectly. Or send you a bill…
#2 by Carl on June 30, 2011 - 6:33 am
HAHA! Yes. I think the ones who send the bill might be worse than the ones inside but on the opposite end of the scale.
#3 by Carl D'Agostino on June 30, 2011 - 3:23 pm
I need one that publishes cartoons