Arguing With Myself Poem by Charles Dawes
Arguing With Myself
point made.
touché my friend.
how far till we arrive?
question.
yes, yes,
Im aware.
(oh look, he spelled his name
in the sand.
D-A-N-E
such a nice name.
reminds me of
photographed summer days.)
my faith rests with happiness.
you cant mistake that
for anything else.
'god, Im anxious.'
'nope, thats happiness.
point.2-love'
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: happiness
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8/28/2026 9:32:22 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
