3

-Reflection-The bones have healed over the span of time The gashes have scabbed and scarred over All that is left are scars and memories For on this very night a year ago I still remember that cannonball claiming myself as it's prey Crushing my ribcage, simple as if it were constructed of twigs My ribcage suddenly transforming into an internal jaw Gripping my lungs, crushing my diaphram, resricting my air Only a few breaths are able to escape excruciatingly My spine crashes against the ice Forcing more air from my lungs Causing more pain, more agony, more screaming Warmth begins to f-Reflection-


AloneIt seems like it has been forever Forever since I was first locked within this prision When in reality it has only been a few months These iron bars have grown ice cold While these thorns and brambles create an even greater barrier And I am trapped here alone, without a single companion Only the occasional visitor stopping at my slit of a window But it was not always this way I still remember the one single daily visitor Not some prince charming Not someone expected But a single songbird The only thing that made me feel that I am still part of the world The only thiAlone
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All wars are civil wars becasue all men are brothers
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"Don't move the way fear makes you move.
Move the way love makes you move. "
[Osho]
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!!!!Un appareil photo n'a jamais fait une grande image, pas plus qu'une machine à écrire n'a écrit un grand roman!!!!
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!!!!Un appareil photo n'a jamais fait une grande image, pas plus qu'une machine à écrire n'a écrit un grand roman!!!!
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Moshi Moshi??
Check my band -> [link]
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Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can- Danny Kaye
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ninja
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Life is never able to fit into a neat simple pattern of ABA, or ABCA, etc. So why should poetry about life follow a neat simple pattern?? Life is random, so why shouldn't poetry concerning it be also??
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