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Black Sheep
March 13, 2009
Lying on the wings of a ble bird,
Looking at the purple sky.
Dividing all the rings into thirds,
I pray "please god don't let me die."
But then I ask why should I care,
Staring at my crystal ball.
When you all act like Im not there,
Should I even live at all?
Maybe Im just going to sleep,
In this mind I cannot find.
Maybe its the reason I weep,
I think Im just losing my mind.
I understand I am a black sheep
Easting grass beneath a dead tree.
But I think I can finally breathe deep.
Even if the fog wont leave me.
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