I walk around with shoulders shruged, too many questions about something called love.
The thing that pains and to the heartstrings do tug, you ask me of love and all you get is a shrug.
I shrug to your questions and to your statments made, my opinion is something that too often does fade.
I have no real answers or opinions to give, my shrug is an entity something that lives.
I do not control my shrugs any more, my body reacts and my shoulders are sore.
If you're looking for answers or a better nights sleep, a shrug you will get - my mouth not a peep.
1:29 a.m. - 2003-02-01
Recent entries:
An Athiests Prayer - 2010-11-22
An apple on a tree - 2010-11-07
At work and bored. - 2010-02-08
Faces - 2009-10-17
Time for a rebirth - 2009-10-16
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
drastik
ladyvaduva
shortcake30
audios-babe