Of Myself

Of Myself

Of Myself

Many times I have seen you
Blowing bubbles by the well
Can you tell me of the one…
The one who dwells on the hill?

The tiny house looks so empty
With many cracks upon the wall
Every one tells a story
Why do I even care at all?

Seven years have been drifted
Many faults have been had
When I awaken from the journey
The answers flood and I am mad

Some think that living on the edge
Is better than being bored
Well when I’m straight-creativity flows
And I no longer feel alone

The one who dwells on the hill
Is a sweetheart-she is me!
She learned the hard way in every situation
Now it’s time to let her be
She’s spread her wings and she is free
Don’t you know-I’ve gotta be me

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About bognetta

Love has been so much more powerful than other people's control. I think it's all love, but sometimes it doesn't feel like love. That is because so many people are defensive, protective, and do not care to trust in that four letter word...love!
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