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2-13-02 promised passion
a weak scream
of promised
passion errupts
from the soul-
from the hands-
from the throat.
a childish
prayer for
salvation escapes
from the past-
to the ears-
until the end.
mock me with
your careful
words. slap
me with your
rough emotions-
dulled and
crushed and
barely there.
this is a good poem and i enjoyed reading it. good work, and do please keep it up.
~wishing i didn't exist
good one