Unwritten poem--2004

by Clonjey   May 29, 2006


Maybe it's fate that you hate me.
Everyday I pray that you take me.
To be the man that you demand;
Take that chance to advance;
Past the primitive derivative of the ape.
But is it possible?
Is it probable?
No,
So I don't know.
I can't change the things that make me.
Maybe it's fate that you hate me.

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