It's too early for these thoughts.
The clock strikes 4:24amI didn't feel like smokingI am sitting in skeleton's rib cagefashioned into a lovely housethe owner of this rib cageis what we were togetherour friendship dead and gone....but it's 4:29 in the morningI smoke too many ciggerettesand think of youtears rundownmy redened checksdownmy long neckdownmy boney chestfill the room'till I feel like I dodeadlike it is when i look you deep in the eyewhat you really arei don't really like the end. I would like to end this on a positive note but it is hard to end a poem on a positive note when its about losing a dear friend to a drug. Written September 29th, 2001 © on Sep 29 2001 01:55 PM PST, Leah Carter 10 • 0
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"The clock strikes 4:24amI didn't feel like smokingI am sitting in skeleton's rib cagefashioned into a lovely housethe owner of this rib cageis what we were togetherour friendship dead and gone....but it's 4:29 in the morningI smoke too many ciggerettesand think of youtears rundownmy redened checksdownmy long neckdownmy boney chestfill the room'till I feel like I dodeadlike it is when i look you deep in the eyewhat you really arei don't really like the end. I would like to end this on a positive note but it is hard to end a poem on a positive note when its about losing a dear friend to a drug...."