about me: September sixth

My hands are about

as cold and dead

as they can be

without actually being dead.


My hair is about

as long as can be

without actually being long.


My thighs are about

as thick as can be

withough actually being fat.


My eyes are about

as sad as can be

without actually burning up with tears.


I, as a human, 




"in the middle"


as can be

without being



This poem is about: 


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