sharp

sharp

A Poem by Hermione

My mind folds
itself into sharp edges
in my heart they form
a fine line
(and that's the way I fix things)
I hear you with full ear
you only hear with half
70 times 7, it's in my nature
(this makes me hate myself)
Far away (mark it
in your calendar)
this could mean something
but right now I could fall
 and you'd miss it.
I am willing I am able
to fix you sick
(I wish my hand would slip)
but my conscience reeks
of second thoughts
and my steps
are already unsteady.

© 2009 Hermione


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Added on November 21, 2009

Author

Hermione
Hermione

Strawberry Fields, MI



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