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#incurable
i’ve beaten down and broken into a million pieces now i’m here alone with no cure for my diseases they’re eating me alive cell by cell they’ve forced me to do things i refuse to tell now i sit here alone broken and lost i’m still feeding my insecurities when i know the cost eventually i’ll be gone nothing but pain it keeps me awake at night coursing through my veins there’s so many scars i can’t count them all i’m patiently waiting for my one last fall my diseases are incurable i’ve given up hope there’s not much of me left i’m searching for a rope to end my pain to end my sorrow i’m hoping for a better tomorrow
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
diseases
Hello, dearly beloved How are you doing? I hope you’re doing fine It’s been so long Since we’ve last talked It’s been so long Since we’ve last seen each other I strongly apologise For keeping you wait for my emails For I have been busy And I hope you understand that Though I know being busy Is not that much of an excuse I hope you’re not mad darling I know you’ve been missing me For quite some time I apologies for hurting you I know how much missing someone hurts I know Because I have been missing you too Which hurts like An incurable wound Will you forgive my clumsiness? I hope you do Please do My dear I love you very Do you love me still? I hope you do Well I know you do But please say you do Will you please Reply to this unravishing poem from me to you With a ravishing poem from you to me? I hope you do Please do Your poetess, Afra Alzaabi
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Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
Dear J.Q
What Do you Do When Your Cure Turns On You
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
No cure (10W)
Curiosity is an incurable disease, and thank goodness for that.
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Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
Curiosity [10W]
Swooping through the city streets, the alleys, the corners, every crevice and crack. Education and language never to be seen, dissipating with the past. Ingrained in the brain, the common normality, placed on the famous track. Morality has diminished, human beings are finished. No curative for this disease, a disgusting devious deceit   Two dozen selfies left behind,   just you, old and decrepit all your doing, your design,   a silly lie.   A ***** disguise. Alone with a wasted life.
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
The Plague Of Narcissism