Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Made of skin, bones and smoke.

Nothing all too sturdy. Somthing unlike concreate. Speaking to be broken. Moving to be fragile.
I can take it I will hold it for as long as need be. I'm able. I can but I wont always want to. For once in my life I want to. I can beacuse I want. I'm telling myself everyday that I've got it. That I can walk when I want. That I'll open my mouth when I want. That I'll like who I want and hate whoam ever I want. Beacuse I've got it and I'm bringing it to me everyday. Strength, touch me and I'll fall. Test me and I'll stand my ground. I've got it. Made of skin, bones and smoke. Not an ounce of muscle. Yet I've got it. Without your muscle I've got it. I will keep this with me. I will walk. I will go when I please and leave when I've had enough. No more of this supply and demand child. Supply and Demand Child has grown, grown into somthing strong and somthing capable. Made of skin, bones and smoke I am strong. Lacking muscle I am strong. I've got it.
Fuck you.

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