In case you are wondering that is not me who is writing poetry. It is Sabo, and I'm wondering if we should include her name in the title...but that's looking pretty complicated right now so.

I've been feeling pretty lackluster nowadays, which explains my lack of contribution also, in case you were wondering. Not much going on in P-ville either. It seems that we are all planning on getting as far away as possible this summer, namely New Zealand, where a nice young man has agreed to let us sleep in a tent in his backyard. It just doesn't get any better.

I considered making new years resolutions but soon lost motivation.

grrr winter you suck

By the way... this is a picture of what happens when you carry too many heavy objects. Consider yourself warned

The Truth about Me and the Epilogue

I am the type of person
Who stays a float, mid air.
And when I have decided
I fall with out a care.
I smile without a reason;
Never could explain.
But when I lose my secret high
I can’t help but complain.

I only whine in fragments,
It’s hard to say in full.
I’m always so afraid
That I will sound too dull.
Don’t dare to bore my friends
With weaknesses that hide.
Sometimes it’s not a problem,
So why ruin my pride?

I am the type of person
Who floats back in the air.
I break when I have fallen
But I quickly can repair.
And then I’m cold, my mind’s made up
Move on, try not to a care.

By Zoola