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Almost

This is the life was almost lived, and the smile was almost smiled.

This is the heart was almost tamed, but still the heart is wild.

This is the voice was almost heard, and the ears that strain to hear.

These are the eyes that almost see, but know when danger's near.

This is the soul that almost dreams, and the mind that never sleeps.

This is the body that hurts and stings... that stays in bed and weeps.

These are the arms that almost hold, and the lips that almost kiss.

This is the one who never knew, so knew not what to miss.

This is the glass that almost broke, and the milk was almost spilt.

This is the face without a face, and the voice without a lilt.

This is the brain that almost works, and almost has an excuse.

But I can only almost explain, so mostly it's no use.

This is the one who is almost alone, and almost in despair.

This is the scream that's trapped in my head... It's just not fair!

This is the life was almost lived, and the death was almost died.

That is the past I've almost forgotten.

These are the tears I've almost cried.

I am an almost invisible person.

With an almost inaudible voice I speak.

I speak the lies that are almost the truth.

I speak of the days that turn into weeks.

I almost move through the streets and the crowds.

I almost remember the names and the faces.

I'm almost there and almost not.

I'm always trapped in lonely places.

This is the star that almost shines.

This is the lion that almost roars.

This is the wave that almost breaks.

This is the strike that almost scores.

This is the life that's almost wasted.

This is the damn that almost gives.

This is the hope that's almost hopeless.

This is the death that almost lives.

This is almost as good as it gets, and almost as bad as things can be.

This is almost the end of my poem about how I'm almost me.

by Samanne Shaw

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