Forever doomed to walk within the proximity of the lives of others,
Yet never allowed to be within the halls of the hearts of those most dear to me?
Sorrow is an inept and beautiful surrogate to joy, albeit frailty holds its hand too tightly for my liking.
There’s always the possibility this is all untrue and if that is the case I would like to hold up my life as evidence to the contrary.
Doubtful the gavel would fall in my favour.
-j.g. smith (10/01/09)
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