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Literature Text
Lonely...lonely on the outside...lonely on the inside...
Lonely...lonely is what I am...lonely is what I feel
Lonely...oh so lonely...no such feeling more than lonely
More than pain...more than heartache
Only lonely to overcome me
I am what lonely is...I am what lonely means.
There is nothing more than what lonely can do
To someone who's been treated untrue.
But somehow I still need you...
Lonely...lonely is what I am...lonely is what I feel
Lonely...oh so lonely...no such feeling more than lonely
More than pain...more than heartache
Only lonely to overcome me
I am what lonely is...I am what lonely means.
There is nothing more than what lonely can do
To someone who's been treated untrue.
But somehow I still need you...
Literature
Quaint of Heart
Winter is for us, the writers, When snow makes a foundation of The world. And white is your screen And bit of paper In a book. We will to life our wiser ways For all— A coat for a mage In need of pockets; Fuzzy socks for a poetess In need of warmth. There is homeliness in what we are As writers. In what we do. We've often a world of wrath. But so, too, is it one Of welcomes And warmth. Of snow and ink.
Literature
Years of Tears
He cried at their wedding. He's the type of man who feels like men need to be strong all the time, but he cried at their wedding. He'd been through terrible things in his life. His brother died when he was young, after spending a long time in a coma. His mother died after that, when he was a teenager. His father had never really been in the picture... so his aunt took him in. His aunt's husband mistreated him and greedily tried to take his mother and brother's insurance money for himself. He liked my mom and dad, who were like a second aunt and uncle to him, because they didn't try to take his money. He stayed with us for a while. I was young enough not to truly realize what he was going through. I just thought it was awesome that he got to stay with us. After all that hardship, he found the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He was so happy and grateful that he cried at his wedding. He asked me to be one of his maids of honor. I saw his tears
Literature
FORGET ME NOT
Looking out, looking in, looking back The dead eyes speak Of miracles in the light Of ghosts in the night Of lost reflection Of broken images A window to the soul A stranger in the mirror
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written many moons ago...
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Comments1
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Hey Sis you used my pic. That's cool!