Everyone I know is fake.
Well, that’s an exaggeration
I came up with on those blue swings
down by the lake last summer.
Remember? You were there.
I remember thinking you weren’t fake.
But I can’t help but feel this way
at least sometimes, when the sky is dark
and a million points of light shine on me
and everything is a muffled silence.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
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