not finished
not finished
Skipping along the proverbial trail
my foot steps, foreign to the ground
rejected by pebbles and dirt
Mother Wind waves along
eliminating my presence to a mere memory
Situated on a planet with no recollecting capabilities
to be or not to be
I vanish
an urban legend
existence becomes a question of fact or fiction
Trying to carbon copy me
sinking in quick-sand
they proclaim orginality
no one to to drop a gavel
no reality checks
By: Sun © 2006