Saturday, March 1, 2014

Who am I


The edges of your self don't end at your skin and fingernails and hair
It stretches across the pavement riddled with the faded invisible prints of your feet
Over all the pages you have ever signed your name to
It echoes in faraway hallways from the mouths of friends and family
It ends in the hearts and minds those who truly love you
So little of yourself is yourself

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