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I'll make it happen
My miracle, my need...
Out of what is not such a problem and great a sin to touch.
The prettiest one wins everything. I read a good book teaching me this great lesson. To be a winner means to do anything but also have all the means.
How? Well... I hope you'll find the book to teach you just how. There are many out there. Find what suits you best.

(appearances matters! Just like everything else.)

And don't you tell me that **** didn't matter 'cause it did make you react in a certain way.
Playing foot every day,
House of need.
The beauty of love (illegal or not) lies in the pages if history.

If it hurts then it must be live
And all your sheep and cattle should feel honoured
For being slaughtered, to us the proof of
Great love.
What I am made of now
You'd gladly leave behind,
Bury deep in the grounds
Never to see again.

Where are my blades
To clean all this infectious blame
This miserable soul
That seems did not deserve
But more
More of the filth
You wouldn't know
Of How to rid yourselves.

Where are those fires
To put an end to all this filthy page
That I've become
This filth of which everyone
Would be Justly Glad
Happily sad to rid themselves.
Soup of the ***.
As I wait in this loud silence imposed
While the war makes soul of our hearts and brains
I learn
I weep
I tell
I can't explain to myself this crave for suffering.
It must be a habit
Imposed
As well
Made
As the hives of bees.
Could I accept the miracle?
Was I supposed to hurt him more?
I can't explain myself this crave for suffering.
It must be a bad habit.
This foul nature we keep attaking
With garbage every day
One day taking the garbage
Back to us.

Shouldn't we deal with it?
"Maybe you had a good life but you had to ruin mine... and I had to say goodbye, still, you wouldn't let me...
You like seeing us hurt,
Broken, humiliated for all the strength we show,
For all the weakness we exposed...
For anything that is, that was...
Once yours
Oh, but for ten times much more!
You would
Humiliate us more
I know...
I had to flee
As you were too ugly to accept and let me be."

©Theodora Oniceanu
And I give praise to the Lord every day for not feeling, not caring... Not suffering anymore
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