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"A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures." The Picture of Dorian Gray

Thursday, December 23, 2010

day one hundred fifty-eight: high school, oh, high school.

the past
such a warm fuzzy place
even if it isn't full of perfect memories
it's so nice to be there
because if you're looking back
that means you survived it
and those trials you experienced
that you thought would kill you
merely kept you stumped for a while
and now you're looking back
through the boxes of high school memories
thinking and remembering
and reliving the past
and seeing all those opportunities missed
and all those opportunities taken
and all those smiles that were spent
with people you never thought you'd miss
until tomorrow, that is
and tomorrow's tomorrow,
because those days aren't warm and fuzzy
and tomorrow never will be for certain
because you've got no control
it's coming and there's no stopping it
no staying in this moment forever
you're closer and closer to tomorrow
and when you look back on today
this moment
right now
be sure you made it what you want it to be
because it's only warm and fuzzy
if you survive
to look back
on yesterday.

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