Sunday, 10 January 2010
12:47:54 AM (GMT)
I like being alone, but cannot bear the small
I love being free, but where can I rebel with no limits
Odd sounds echo though my surroundings
Not just in the air or wind
I feel the impossible movment of the world
and I begin when that world ends
Maybe its the strange way I look at clocks
The way it doesn't go tick-tock
Maybe paper is blue cheese but can it flap in the wind?
Envolopes and clogs both odd and filled with lots
Am I witch I pecive or am I just the witch?
Am I infact the person I think I'm not
To only reflect what I see in the mirror
That is my job, my one and only calling