I like you.
I miss you.
I hate you.
Forgive you?
From three words to two,
I'm not quite sure, but I do.
Dreams blend,
but all this has to end.
It's ours,
but it's not.
No excuse,
but wait 'til it's right.
Just trying,
to figure out life.
Steal breaths,
three times as fast,
beats in a chest.
Instinct kicks and it bites,
drowning, running away,
just whispers
at night.
Trying to hide,
what we all dream.
Starting a new day,
because it has to be done.
Waiting 'til sun,
a set or a rise?
I cannot say,
I cannot decide.
For now,
just wait.
Pause and rewind.
--But this is just another autobiography, examining the prosopography of me.
By: Emma Marie.
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