I don't know why she never really knew me I wish I knew why she was so unkind And why she cut my clothes to shreds so rudely And ripped the peace cleanly out of my mind
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i hate myself i hate my life my fingers close around the knife my cuts are mouths screaming in vain as blood mixes with streaming rain
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Hey lonely - your poem ******. Read more, get out more, eat meat or forever hold your peas.
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Nightfall comes wood smoke curls as lights go out.
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N E 1 want 2 chat? No? 'bye.
Notes: I wrote this in several different styles to represent several different poets in a poetry forum. Some are dreamers, one is suicidal, one is a flippant self-styled critic. The haiku poet opens and closes the night's poetry discussions, but a latecomer has the last word. Inspired by the newsgroup alt.arts.poetry.comments