the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Precious Precocious

You're scaring yourself with
Hypothetical monsters.
They scheme in your closest
And dress you up with
Every fashionable frightening.
Your Sunday's best is your funeral
And you die with the weight
Of all that you wear.
It's hard to keep your hands
So tightly clasped together
When you've become this self-aware.

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