Thursday, February 17, 2011

Stop, start. Start again

Like pens kicking, like cars screeching to a halt.
Trains picking up, like they'd never stopped on those tracks.

I'm here, and then I'm not. And I come back.
Sometimes I'm bothered, sometimes I try to scratch things out from under my skin,
And sometimes, words wash over me leaving me unfazed.

I like what we've got.
And if only it was easier for those on the fringes to understand.

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