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they built a big arena in the land of romewhere the gladiators lived this was to be there homethere they fought with lions that they had to killto please the roman emeperor and give the crowds a thrill.then they fought each other the strongest would surviveswords an tridents they would use to help them  stay alivethe emperor  gave the signal for battle to commence as the gladiators become more and more intense.the winner would go on to fight another dayand find another gladiator he hoped that he could slay.this is the way it was the way it had to be.till there came a day when the gladiator was free
Kayla Latham Dec 2014
If we are fortunate,we are given a warning.If not,there is only the sudden horror,the wrench of being torn apart;of being remindedthat nothing is permanent,not even the ones we love,the ones our lives revolve around.Life is a fragile affair.We are all dancingon the edge of a precipice,a dizzying cliff so highwe can't see the bottom.One by one,we lose those we love mostinto the dark ravine.So we must cherish themwithout reservation.Now.Today.This minute.We will lose themor they will lose ussomeday.This is certain.There is no time for bickering.And their losswill leave a great pit in our hearts;a pit we struggle to avoidduring the dayand fall into at night.Some,unable to accept this loss,unable to determinethe worth of life without them,jump into that black pitspiritually or physically,hoping to find them there.And some survivethe shock,the denial,the horror,the bargaining,the barren, empty aching,the unanswered prayers,the sleepless nightswhen their breath is crushedunder the weight of silenceand all that it means.Somehow, some survive all that and,like a flower opening after a storm,they slowly begin to rememberthe one they lostin a different way...The laughter,the irrepressible spirit,the generous heart,the way their smile made them feel,the encouragement they gaveeven as their own dreams were dying.And in time, they fill the pitwith other memoriesthe only memories that really matter.We will still cry.We will always cry.But with loving reflectionmore than hopeless longing.And that is how we survive.That is how the story should end.That is how they would want it to be.
two little love  birds sat in treevery much in love it was plain to see sat with each over and they began to kisssuch a lovely sight and oh so full of blissthen they sang a love song of love so strong and true.then a kiss one more time and off the love birds flew.i thought about the love birds every single dayand the very thought made my heart just fly away.

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