The Script
I met a girlthat told me that she did not belong to this world
and she showed me a broken mirror
she told me
by George,she told me
"Do not let them define the script
of your own life".
Since then
every once in a while
I glare outside the window
hoping I will see her shadow
creeping gently across the snowy walls
in a frosty,frosty evening
hoping I will keep on hoping
hoping...
Next to the fire
on a sweet,summer night
I smell her perfume in the air
And I always remember this girl
who is maybe sailing miles away
somewhere, to a brand new day
whose words led my life
and made me write...
Poetry by Eva
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Written on 2009-06-15 at 23:24
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