venting.
it's what I do.
it's who I am.
I walk along a narrow crooked path that fades in and out, sometimes dissapearing in the thickly mossed and moist ground.
I walk a path of searching.
finding.
living.
dying.
I find some and lose others.
small remnants of what used to be, lay scattered around my bare, paint chipped toes.
a simple muslin dress, raw, and bare...untouched, envelopes me as I walk.
I shiver from the early dew that caresses my lively skin
as well as bask in the shining glow of light emitted from the morning sun.
I wander in life.
I search inevitably for whom I can wander beside.
journey with...love and suffer with.
until then, I gaze upon the broken clown faced pipe once belonging to a man long gone before existence knew my name.
herbert.
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