110209
Im so disappointed that i get used by someone ! I finally realise . Realise that i have been used by him for the always && all the way that i dumb dk it . Im stupid , wasn't it ? So much t say is that i hate you more && more . Maybe a few more day , i will be hated you deeper && deeper . Why was it you have t done all this t me all awhile ? Why was it you have t treat me this way ? Why am i so stupid ? Oh, you've did it too much. WHY ? I hate this kind of peeps much . &im sure that everyone do. SIGH ~ The turth has come out . Bt you still dk what you are/were . && we both dk ourself . Pls stop all your nonsense w me . && Mind yourself clearly . Fuckup!! Fuck-Off away me! STUF *
FUCKYOU!
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Its my question for the day, the month, the yr. I rly want t knw. Cos' one needs t cry rivers of savage roses for her.Its been 1 yr since i last wrote a poem. Worthy of the name. Maybe am missing on life. Maybe im missing on what am living. Maybe poetry was nvr there t start w. Maybe am that vacant space whr letters await before eternal oblivion. In silence. Numb limbs. Treasuring sentences of dead dialects. Lyk a tree treasures its seed. In vain. Pls. Trow in a sign at the next bus stop. Whr the blue eyed angel draws w a distinctive elegance a sidewalk of lost dreams. Maybe, just maybe. Within the storm. Aft these green tattoed eyes find themselfs the unique blindness. When despair becomes my brother. We cn hang in the brothel of desire. For poetry sake. Arguing amongst languid bodies. Whr does all poetry g t die?
Die
You come up t me && slit my throat w my last gasping breath. I say im sorry for getting blood on your shirt.(:
Once Upon A Broken Heart - The Beu Sisters
FUCKYOU!
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.
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Its my question for the day, the month, the yr. I rly want t knw. Cos' one needs t cry rivers of savage roses for her.Its been 1 yr since i last wrote a poem. Worthy of the name. Maybe am missing on life. Maybe im missing on what am living. Maybe poetry was nvr there t start w. Maybe am that vacant space whr letters await before eternal oblivion. In silence. Numb limbs. Treasuring sentences of dead dialects. Lyk a tree treasures its seed. In vain. Pls. Trow in a sign at the next bus stop. Whr the blue eyed angel draws w a distinctive elegance a sidewalk of lost dreams. Maybe, just maybe. Within the storm. Aft these green tattoed eyes find themselfs the unique blindness. When despair becomes my brother. We cn hang in the brothel of desire. For poetry sake. Arguing amongst languid bodies. Whr does all poetry g t die?
Die
You come up t me && slit my throat w my last gasping breath. I say im sorry for getting blood on your shirt.(:
Once Upon A Broken Heart - The Beu Sisters
Labels: Whr does poetry go to die?
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