The tools are immaterial, the resulting piece is what's most important.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

On the edge

I'm hanging on the edge and not sure of what to do.
Your back is always to me with an arrow pierced through.

What once was a pure heart, that was so much in love with you,
and as I hang on the edge,
I wonder if it's true.

After years together, our love has reached its end.
Not only have I lost my love one,
but also my best friend.

As I stand here, on the edge and looking out across the sky,
that is fading and seems to end.

But in the mist and shades of grey,
I am still here, hanging on the edge.


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