sleepy head at work.

I am those unsaid words stuck in your throat,
that voice of comfort during your times of fright.
I am the gooseflesh you felt when a teardrop fell,
the warm wind that blew over you yesternight.
I am not what you thought I would be.
To you, I am more than a physical form.
I am the flowers of spring,
the song on your strings,
the smile on your face when the day dawns.

and I don't want the world to see me
'cause I don't think that they'd understand.
when everything's meant to be broken
I'd just want you to know who I am.

this blog is so full of crap that i could die.
right now.


no.
not now.
i will live until holi.
i will die on friday.


oh, no.
sorry.
sunday.
next.