:: Emo ::

Sunday, August 26, 2007

What's wrong?

Living in an unconcious state,

arrows came shooting in all directions.

Arrows of family, arrows of friendship, arrows of nature, arrows of man-made objects.

Arrows from everywhere come shooting, all at one time.

Unconcious, defenceless.

I stood there and got shot.

Laying there injured, I stand none of these no more.

Injured and weak, what more can I do?

The more I rebel, the more pain I receive.

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