Wednesday, July 28, 2004

May 4 1999

I can't even look,
My minds a blur,
My heads a mess.
My legs won't work,
My feet are stuck.
Stuck in this spot,
of never quite controlling,
what the day shall bring,
tomorrow?
Or maybe even what,
Yestermorn,
has brought threw breaking day.
if only there was someway,
to see the coming dawn,
Maybe my feet shall move,
my legs might work yet.
the spot shall move,
the one my feet are stuck in.
The glass will soon be clear.
Control,
comes calling!

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