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Fresh 16 my life was great, license, car, fuel in my tank.A simple question asked of my mother flipped my world like to fucking otherHer eyes told me the answer, the one I did not want to hearand this began the best and yet worst of my yearTo the
Quiet now, the winds are speaking Listen carefully for nothing is more wise. It speaks of real love, the kind from within, Not just of the humanly attractive lies. You can learn a lot from them,
I hated him so terribly, so much so, I was confusedI wanted to bury my fists deep into his chestand slide them out comfortably "The thing is," he said, "I tried"We're both asteroids on a forgotten constellationAnd I held his gaze, held in my anger
I named my brain Frank Sheer. Hello. I am Frank. I live in your head. I make you do this, and make you do that; We both like sandwich spread! I know who you miss; and I also concentrate when you crap!
Smile. Smile because you're loved, you're fortunate, you've got no reason to be sad. Smile because everyone around you passes by without a second glance, a second thought, a second word.
I cannot just unpack, distract, extract my feelings. Help mother, help me! I call, but I do not call all at once. Signs of my pain were given but not noticed. She finally opened her eyes when I was on the verge.
The best poem ever written, had its audience so smitten. It captivated thinkers. Sobered up those lousy drinkers. It rose up to the occasion, moved people with persuasion. It fought those moral battles, no more difficult equations.