Crashing Again

I’ve been waiting.
Maybe that’s not right.
My seat belt disintegrates.
I’m green soup through soft leather.
Days have just shortened.
I’m worse than dead.
Save me. Hang me.
I’m scratching escape
with fingernails.

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  1. #1 by abichica on October 18, 2011 - 1:31 am

    woooww!! i can feel your pain, its a very deep rooted poem. 🙂

  2. #2 by Evelyn on October 20, 2011 - 9:41 pm

    yea, wow. this one hurts.

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