She sings
She sings
my struggle
she sings
my soul my song
how does she know?
We are both
we are
we are
hu man
we are
wo man
we are one
wo man
we are one
posted by Portable Soap Box Girl at Friday, December 17, 2010
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret suffering, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music. (Soren Kierkegaard)
posted by Portable Soap Box Girl at Friday, December 17, 2010
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