THE THINGS I DO TO MYSELF

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  • Passion

    THE THINGS I DO TO MYSELF


    Courage seems to evade me
    as I lull in a the deep sleep
    from love's beckoning call.

    My premeditation's seems
    to deceive me as I set myself
    up for an irreversible fall.

    I lose my sense of who I am
    like a peddler who exists in lack
    being born of noble birth.

    So I drown in a sea of self-pity
    and feel I have lost touch with
    the identity of my selfworth.


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    Prettypoetcindy commented on THE THINGS I DO TO MYSELF

    09-21-2009

    I love this poem, its very soulful. Prettypoetcindy

    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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