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Showing posts from February, 2007

Why doesn't my heart break?

Why doesn't my heart break? As vase a thousand pieces doth cumbered Why does it bleed but not die? As fields left cold and lifeless in slumber. Doesn't it grant death to life too long? As wind that cometh but not doth stay And letters, aren't they strong (and stay) ? As searing though as life's arrays. Why doesn't my heart break? A thousand pictures mend shall thee through sullen cries of wishwood pines; Why does it bleed but not die? A thousand times that scythe should flee and flourish thou the songs that rhyme.

Come on now, be serious!

Curly fries, hated eyes, fumbling face hurt my sight. I hope he goes, away as my thought which is fleeting, at hundred of knots. Curly fries, blighted size, searing voice my ears it toys.