The musings, laughter, anguish, and tears of a Stickman living the life drawn for him by the Artist. "I must learn to serve the Artist first, His pen directs my path. He breathes life into these worn-out sticks, And stickmen will see at last."

About Me

Poor. Student. Firefighter. EMT. Kind. Optimistic. Shy. Dreamer. Fool. Happy.

7.28.2005

but who are we
really
to theorize
and philosophize
which feeble ideas
are left to try

evil thinks of
ways to
take
and break
to prod with iron
their quiet ache
who has been
lost in
drink
can't think
how far will they
let you sink
until one of us
must
dive
and cry
that we are full
of lies
now let me
jump
to redeem
your screams
till all's left
are dreams
let me look to your eyes and sigh
before we both must die.

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