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I'm stuck with dial-up in this high speed world, Seems just how my life is. Race by, race by Like a turtle in quicksand with a broken leg. I may not move as quickly as they do, but Heck, I know when to stop and think. I know How to stop and drink in the sweet frangrance Of succulent roses, bathing ing in milky sunlight. They have to go, go, go right on past, without Even catching a glimpse. What is it that they need To save time for so badly? |
this does have elements of good poetry. i feel that for being 14 you wrote a very good poem with this one. that is all.| Posted on 2009-02-21 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ] | |