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#neverforget
Tila namanhid na ang babahaang landas walang patid ang agos ng luha, habang walang habas ang malupit na lilik-panggamas - patuloy ang tila nag-aamok na pagwasiwas. Kahit mura pa ang uhay ng nagbubuntis na palay Namúti na ang katiwala ng mga bunso't panganay: Walang sinanto ang pakay ng aninong sumalakay. Sinimot pati ipa. Ang imbakang burnay tuyung-tuyô, tila balóng patáy. Ubos na ang mga ninuno sa Purok Ang mga inanak at inapo, tila mga but-o ng kapok nangalat na sa malalayong pook Hindi na tumalab ang mga erihiyang tampok Ang lamping ibinalot, balót na ng usok. Ang binalot na kapirasong pusod, bakas na lamang ng balok. Karipas na ang binatilyong habol ang mutyang pailaya. May baon pang pagkain, pagsasaluhan pag nagkita Ngunit mabilis na napawi ang tanawing kasiya-siya Ang natapong lomi, natabunan na ng aspalto’t palitada kasama ng mga bakas nina Utoy at mga kabarkada sa ilang dekadang araw-araw na pagbagtas, nakasipit at gura mula sa Baryo Balintawak hanggang Lumang Baraka sa Lipa - Di na makilala. Wangis ay mistisong pilipit. Ay! Pilpinas pala!
0
Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 7:41 AM UTC
Panahong Karipas
Pilit hinahabol ng gunting-pamugot ang tanging dugsong na duguang pusod, huminto’t tumigil, piniringang may-takot ang pangalan ng saksi sa mga sagot - pusod, di-makita, hila ng sanggol na supót, nag-anyong kabayo, takbo nang takbo ngunit di abutan, kawatang kangkarot, akmang tatakas sa malupit na bangungot   mabuti’t nag-iwan ng aklat, Gat Patnugot, at tila ebanghelyong liwanag ang dulot - kapag namulat ka’y mahahawi ang ulap at ulop Kay sarap lumayang tila tsokolateng malambot.
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Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 7:50 AM UTC
Bangungot
Grant me witnessing all ‘round I go Let me be uncomfortable In my sadness In my spite In my veins our ancestors’ strife Their oppression chiseled in depths Of my subconscious—mayn’t I forget In my every privileged sigh In every nightmare’s death And all of my trivial achievement That their blood inks this gazette That my soul echoes their last breath For justice—mayn’t I Move idly and yield To transient relief To false gods To defeatism That my heart numbs To the cries of my people To the destruction of our homes To the monarchy of traitors Let me hear it everywhere I go Let me be uncomfortable
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Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:06 PM UTC
Pledge Allegiance
Sometimes I am naked and look at myself. My tan skin looks less brown than it looks grey like ashes; Perhaps it's grey like the burned cultures, the damages traditions and bombarded destinies. When I put my dark hand onto someone's fair skin I see the ashes and I'm reminded of histories we'll never get to cherish.
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Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 5:08 AM UTC
Skin
Pain has always been there To help remind us that we're alive. But not all pain hurts the same. A broken heart starts with a shock. A bullet, a hole of fire. A stab or slice, a sting. A punch or kick, an ache. But the worst pain isn't physical. It's psychological. Over time, you may forget the pain Of being shot, stabbed, or punched. But you'll never forget the words That were said or the fear you felt. The point is, There are different types of pain. But none of them hurt or heal the same.
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Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 7:59 PM UTC
Pain
When I called I said I needed resolution When we met That’s what you gave me I could see it cost you When you wanted to hold me. Your hands reached for me but made do with air. We were so short lived innocent of body but falling in love is not innocent when married to others. Your child needs to see you And you need him You will continue wife of coercive control and I will let you. Today I’ve woken With a calm about me Tentative tranquility. I’ll never forget you.
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Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 3:37 PM UTC
Never forget you
We will never forget... The last day dawns on my life And I don't know it As I wake up to golden rays Of sun knocking on my eyelids. I kissed my wife good morning, Got up out of bed And tucked her in again. Naomi spent 10 hours last night Delivering a new mother's firstborn. I didn't tell her good morning And I wish I told her I loved her But I didn't want to wake her. I sipped my coffee on the way to work As if it were any other day, My only worry was if I had spilled any On the new pink and white Polka-dot tie my daughter Elise Had bought me for my birthday Last weekend Or the new Bostonian shoes My wife gave me With the card that read, We love you from top to bottom! I walked into the conference room And checked my watch: 8:36. I was 9 minutes early To the most exciting moment Of my career: My first pitch as project manager For the new country club going up East of the city in Glenwood Landing. I was 10 minutes early To the most helpless moment Of my life. At 8:45 I said good morning To many fine ladies and gentlemen... Bankers, lawyers, city representatives, A union boss, some secretaries, And a stenographer in the back. The same words I would never again say to my wife and child... And immediately I was thrown Through the air And knocked against the righthand wall Of the room. I was utterly confused And my face burned From the coffee I had been holding That now stained My beautiful polka-dot tie. It would be nothing compared to the heat I would soon face. Outside our 111th-story window Rose an obsidian plume of smoke. We all knew something terrible Had happened just a few floors below. The fine ladies and gentlemen Of a moment ago Quickly turned into uncivilized beasts As the lights went out And the piercing scream of the fire alarm Shouted louder than the new mother Experiencing the pain Of her first childbirth. Smoke very quickly came from below And filled the floor with the foulest odor I had ever smelled: Burning rubber, sulfur, And burnt hair. Others in the room sealed the door shut With expensive overcoats and undershirts From Armani and Burberry. They tried the phone countless times But the line was dead. I looked down at my watch As a bead of sweat fell from my brow And landed on my new tie: 9:11. Today's date. The fire alarm got tired of yelling And the room was filled with an Uncomfortable rumbling sound... Flames... ...and the hysterical wails of the Fine ladies and gentlemen in the room. Some prayed, some wept together, Others wept alone. The one thing we all had in common Was the persistent coughing From the obsidian smoke Slicing our lungs. I looked down at my watch: 9:23. The heat was now almost unbearable. We huddled around the window Jack or John or Jim smashed With the powerful throw Of a mini-refigerator. When I gazed out the window At the same sun that kissed my eyelids This morning, I was calm. I thought of Naomi, who was Surely watching on television As her family called her to make sure Her and I and Elise were alright. Daddy's alright, baby girl. I'm alright, Naoms. 9:31... Gary or Greg was the first to jump. I'll make it home to you, angels. 9:32... Sophia or Cynthia was next. Please, God, get me out of here... 9:33... Jack or John or Jim And Patty or Peggy Were each other's last hug As they fell Like two stars from heaven. 9:35... I couldn't see And I couldn't breathe. The sunlight was the last thing to kiss me. Before I jumped I felt my girls. I touched the tie on my neck And the shoes on my feet. I love you both From top to bottom.
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Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 11:38 PM UTC
From Top to Bottom (19th Anniversary of 9/11 Repost)
We will never forget... The last day dawns on my life And I don't know it As I wake up to golden rays Of sun knocking on my eyelids. I kissed my wife good morning, Got up out of bed And tucked her in again. Naomi spent 10 hours last night Delivering a new mother's firstborn. I didn't tell her good morning And I wish I told her I loved her But I didn't want to wake her. I sipped my coffee on the way to work As if it were any other day, My only worry was if I had spilled any On the new pink and white Polka-dot tie my daughter Elise Had bought me for my birthday Last weekend Or the new Bostonian shoes My wife gave me With the card that read, We love you from top to bottom! I walked into the conference room And checked my watch: 8:36. I was 9 minutes early To the most exciting moment Of my career: My first pitch as project manager For the new country club going up East of the city in Glenwood Landing. I was 10 minutes early To the most helpless moment Of my life. At 8:45 I said good morning To many fine ladies and gentlemen... Bankers, lawyers, city representatives, A union boss, some secretaries, And a stenographer in the back. The same words I would never again say to my wife and child... And immediately I was thrown Through the air And knocked against the righthand wall Of the room. I was utterly confused And my face burned From the coffee I had been holding That now stained My beautiful polka-dot tie. It would be nothing compared to the heat I would soon face. Outside our 111th-story window Rose an obsidian plume of smoke. We all knew something terrible Had happened just a few floors below. The fine ladies and gentlemen Of a moment ago Quickly turned into uncivilized beasts As the lights went out And the piercing scream of the fire alarm Shouted louder than the new mother Experiencing the pain Of her first childbirth. Smoke very quickly came from below And filled the floor with the foulest odor I had ever smelled: Burning rubber, sulfur, And burnt hair. Others in the room sealed the door shut With expensive overcoats and undershirts From Armani and Burberry. They tried the phone countless times But the line was dead. I looked down at my watch As a bead of sweat fell from my brow And landed on my new tie: 9:11. Today's date. The fire alarm got tired of yelling And the room was filled with an Uncomfortable rumbling sound... Flames... ...and the hysterical wails of the Fine ladies and gentlemen in the room. Some prayed, some wept together, Others wept alone. The one thing we all had in common Was the persistent coughing From the obsidian smoke Slicing our lungs. I looked down at my watch: 9:23. The heat was now almost unbearable. We huddled around the window Jack or John or Jim smashed With the powerful throw Of a mini-refigerator. When I gazed out the window At the same sun that kissed my eyelids This morning, I was calm. I thought of Naomi, who was Surely watching on television As her family called her to make sure Her and I and Elise were alright. Daddy's alright, baby girl. I'm alright, Naoms. 9:31... Gary or Greg was the first to jump. I'll make it home to you, angels. 9:32... Sophia or Cynthia was next. Please, God, get me out of here... 9:33... Jack or John or Jim And Patty or Peggy Were each other's last hug As they fell Like two stars from heaven. 9:35... I couldn't see And I couldn't breathe. The sunlight was the last thing to kiss me. Before I jumped I felt my girls. I touched the tie on my neck And the shoes on my feet. I love you both From top to bottom.
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130
what makes you think as a cisgender human you have any right to dictate how others live how they were born? their skin colour isn't a choice neither is their gender so why ****** them for being different?
0
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 6:38 AM UTC
in memoriam.
My daughter I am so proud of you Never forget that
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Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 10:37 AM UTC
Proud of you
Sight of eyes Overlapping mine Maybe destiny or Even fate Together we had an Instant connection My heart pounced with Elevated emotion So much Wondrous love Everlasting Happiness spread Around like a Virus never Ending together That is love Or maybe Love is when Even when you want Them to stay they Go up abOve the clouds But never forgot United Their memories Never leaving them Over your form They watch Forever until you go Over that bRoken bridge Granted to spend Eternal life Together again
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Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
What is Love like?
let them be heard from beyond the grave, let them tell the stories of everyone ravished and burned buried alongside the evils the ignorant and privileged threw six feet below this blood-soiled land while the fool who granted himself the glory, the honor, the memory that will never be rightfully his, lies peacefully in a sacred place do not silence them if they shake the streets with rage do not shame them if they burn the metro with blinding fury this is the least we can do, we cannot simply contain the memory of every homes extinguished into grey smoke, of every dungeons that turned into homes, of every child that only had hunger and violence for teachers rather than their parents, of every girl that was marked against her will, of every iron fist that instilled fear, of every every bullet fired onwards from that day of the humanity that ceased to be let the people fight for the yesteryears, let it be known that the deeds of the devil will never be forgotten let it be heard that for as long as we draw breath, he will be condemned back to hell,he will pay for his crimes and along with him are those that do not speak their minds, that choose to remain foolishly blind, that do not sympathise, let them all be reminded: history cannot be changed, only remembered and if bound to be repeated, will be fought like hell because the Filipino may fall but never bend, may falter but never break, may stand in front of the edge, but with crimson-soaked cheeks and wounded fists, we will take with us to the death, our oath: never forget. --W
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Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
september 21st
let them be heard from beyond the grave, let them tell the stories of everyone ravished and burned buried alongside the evils the ignorant and privileged threw six feet below this blood-soiled land while the fool who granted himself the glory, the honor, the memory that will never be rightfully his, lies peacefully in a sacred place do not silence them if they shake the streets with rage do not shame them if they burn the metro with blinding fury this is the least we can do, we cannot simply contain the memory of every homes extinguished into grey smoke, of every dungeons that turned into homes, of every child that only had hunger and violence for teachers rather than their parents, of every girl that was marked against her will, of every iron fist that instilled fear, of every every bullet fired onwards from that day of the humanity that ceased to be let the people fight for the yesteryears, let it be known that the deeds of the devil will never be forgotten let it be heard that for as long as we draw breath, he will be condemned back to hell,he will pay for his crimes and along with him are those that do not speak their minds, that choose to remain foolishly blind, that do not sympathise, let them all be reminded: history cannot be changed, only remembered and if bound to be repeated, will be fought like hell because the Filipino may fall but never bend, may falter but never break, may stand in front of the edge, but with crimson-soaked cheeks and wounded fists, we will take with us to the death, our oath: never forget. --W
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30
I pray for thousands of innocents Who died because of 19 sinners I wished for the wandering souls in earth To be accepted on the side of our Creator Bless the souls who died in Pentagon Bless the souls who died in World Trade Center Bless the souls of the hijacked aircraft's passengers So they will rejoice, in the Land Of Promised For the ones that lost their family, friends or their siblings I want you guys to think positive and keep smiling Because of that incident They could enjoy their new lifes in Heaven The place where pain never exist And known as it's Holy The place where our heart will never resist To enjoy the eternal life and live happily Rest In Peace And you all will be missed
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Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
Poetry For The Events 17 Years Ago
I have no memory of it, Yet I know of the history that befell the United States, Seventeen years ago this year. Smoke... Planes... Panic... Death... Rescue... These are what leave us speechless Yet have made America more aware. May we remain vigilant not for attacks, But vigilant when we see those lost again.
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Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
Towered Over
I'm standing here Looking in the mirror Running my bleeding hands over the glass Feeling every slice and every **** And looking back at me If the little girl I used to be She says what have you done to me You have killed and buried me I see in her eyes who I used to be When I was the captain of that cheer team Being that beautiful girl I was never meant to be But behind her I see the demon That came over me That ripped me to shreds and Pulled me into the rivers of blood and dread The scars that cover me from the fights The demons have broken my wings And thrown me to the depths But they forgot I have claws So I'm climbing from the depths I'm fighting for her The girl thrown to the curb I sing for her I fight for her I bleed for her So I take one last look into the mirror And destroy it that girl was fought her war Now I will fight mine
0
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
Reflection
Panic. The final sound of the door being locked from outside. Mothers crying for children. Children crying for Mothers. Hundreds of people shoving you into corners trying to reach loved ones. A young boy falls to the floor, the mother watches him being trampled, unable to move, unable to breathe. My lungs are screaming for air. Where? Why? Fear. Stumbling into an unknown darkness. The fear of falling asleep and never waking up. Contemplating whether death is better than this. The terrifying crack of a shotgun. A silence howling with anxiety. The beating of the engine counting down minutes perfectly synchronised with my heart. The lady next to me has her eyes closed, I shake her, silently praying for her to be asleep, she doesn’t stir. Despair. I’ve lost track of time, two days, three days, a never ending eternity? Death surrounds me, trying to pull me in to envelop me, it’s so hard to fight, so easy to welcome. I am surrounded by people, but have never felt so alone. We are running on animal instincts, whatever food we have we don’t share. On this train, good morals **** Agony. The heat, the stifling heat. It is dizzying, nauseating. The air is too thick to breathe, to live. There is an overpowering stench, caused by the heat, the absence of a toilet and death. There is not much space, but what space there is, is filled by a suffocating heat, a choking smell and burning grief. Pain is soaring through my veins, a toxic predator pouncing on every fibre of hope in my exhausted body. Embarrassment. They have reduced us to animals. I am embarrassed, embarrassed of my hygiene, embarrassed of my inability to do anything, embarrassed of my selfishness. Embarrassment is no worse than ****** as when a person is embarrassed they wish to be dead. It is emotional homicide. Exhaustion. I am so tired. My body is crumpled, being held up by others, some dead, some wishing to be dead. At first I was focused on surviving, my body was fighting, but now I’m too tired to fight. My hunger is now just a numb aching, but my thirst seems to be pounding every cell in my body, a constant beating. I am tired of crying, tired of praying, tired of hearing other people’s cries, tired of hearing other people’s prayers. Hope. I hear a voice, singing. A mother to her child. The sweet sound of her voice seems to dissolve the clouds of pain and misery hanging over us. Another voice joins in, a man’s voice. Two more people join in; gradually the whole carriage starts to sing, united. I join in grasping for the shreds of energy I didn’t think I had. We sing louder and louder, our voices drown out the protesting orders to stop. The train slows to a stop, and the doors slide open. I breathe, and for the first time in too long, my lungs are satisfied with the oxygen that reaches them. As our bodies rush out of the carriage, still singing, I am filled with a new sense of hope that whatever is coming next couldn’t possibly be worse than what I’d just been through. Could it?
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
Are we there yet?
Panic. The final sound of the door being locked from outside. Mothers crying for children. Children crying for Mothers. Hundreds of people shoving you into corners trying to reach loved ones. A young boy falls to the floor, the mother watches him being trampled, unable to move, unable to breathe. My lungs are screaming for air. Where? Why? Fear. Stumbling into an unknown darkness. The fear of falling asleep and never waking up. Contemplating whether death is better than this. The terrifying crack of a shotgun. A silence howling with anxiety. The beating of the engine counting down minutes perfectly synchronised with my heart. The lady next to me has her eyes closed, I shake her, silently praying for her to be asleep, she doesn’t stir. Despair. I’ve lost track of time, two days, three days, a never ending eternity? Death surrounds me, trying to pull me in to envelop me, it’s so hard to fight, so easy to welcome. I am surrounded by people, but have never felt so alone. We are running on animal instincts, whatever food we have we don’t share. On this train, good morals **** Agony. The heat, the stifling heat. It is dizzying, nauseating. The air is too thick to breathe, to live. There is an overpowering stench, caused by the heat, the absence of a toilet and death. There is not much space, but what space there is, is filled by a suffocating heat, a choking smell and burning grief. Pain is soaring through my veins, a toxic predator pouncing on every fibre of hope in my exhausted body. Embarrassment. They have reduced us to animals. I am embarrassed, embarrassed of my hygiene, embarrassed of my inability to do anything, embarrassed of my selfishness. Embarrassment is no worse than ****** as when a person is embarrassed they wish to be dead. It is emotional homicide. Exhaustion. I am so tired. My body is crumpled, being held up by others, some dead, some wishing to be dead. At first I was focused on surviving, my body was fighting, but now I’m too tired to fight. My hunger is now just a numb aching, but my thirst seems to be pounding every cell in my body, a constant beating. I am tired of crying, tired of praying, tired of hearing other people’s cries, tired of hearing other people’s prayers. Hope. I hear a voice, singing. A mother to her child. The sweet sound of her voice seems to dissolve the clouds of pain and misery hanging over us. Another voice joins in, a man’s voice. Two more people join in; gradually the whole carriage starts to sing, united. I join in grasping for the shreds of energy I didn’t think I had. We sing louder and louder, our voices drown out the protesting orders to stop. The train slows to a stop, and the doors slide open. I breathe, and for the first time in too long, my lungs are satisfied with the oxygen that reaches them. As our bodies rush out of the carriage, still singing, I am filled with a new sense of hope that whatever is coming next couldn’t possibly be worse than what I’d just been through. Could it?
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50
You can think whatever you like. That’s the freedom of thought. Experience leads you to perception, so let me tell you stories about you. There was once a time where we were at odds, and our spirits acted as poles on a magnet. I tried hard to turn myself around but I ended up in an uncontrolled spin. Ever gaining velocity from your push. There was once a time where you were deceitful and purposely put me in a situation where I had to keep quiet about your pathetic inability to have an ounce of self-control. There was once a time I coddled you in a moment of pain. I sacrificed my focus, for your feelings, as friends do.   There was once a time where you invaded my personal space without permission. Too intoxicated to remember but vain enough to run from the truth of your unwelcomed actions.   There are many times when the words that flow out of your mind and to your mouth are convoluted, primitive thoughtless, and egocentric. There is now a time where I do not call you friend. When the veil has been burned to ashes, and all that remains is the same exact person you claim to have slayed. ****** predator, pathological liar, selfish, and narrow minded. People never change.
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May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Ventures of a Hypocrite
Forever there Remember the faces of those people this world has lost. They are never truly gone, so let them never walk alone. Keep them inside your heart until the end of all things, For they are the one’s worth remembering. People we meet in fleeting moments could change our world completely; But those who are gone are fading away into history. So let us remember all of the fallen, For they are no longer here to tell their tale; So let us be the one’s who are reaching out for them. Let their voices echo throughout the years. Let their memories shape the love inside our tears. Let a piece of them remain with us wherever we may go, Because they will always remind us of how lucky we are to have a home. Never forget the time we never had, but we also shared. We may have been strangers, but we were all here once And one day we will all be forever there. (C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 2:52 PM UTC
Forever there
I love the one who makes me laugh for no reason I love the one I've made it through all the seasons I love the curve of his smile and the way his eyes grow when he sees me I love the one who took the bitter out of my heart and replaced it with glee I will never forget the touch of his skin for the first time I will never forget the hours we spent on my back porch listening to the wind chimes I will never forget the everlasting kiss that sealed our fate I will never forget the words that took away my breath , "Would you want to date?" I will never forget and always love the one
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Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
Amo il mio goober
You may travel long! but never forget what/who made you suffer/strong!!
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Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
Never Forget
Boy that I mean Who I interested He cool and cold Yes. Complete. Somehow he makes me fill in his situation, in his world Somehow I lost it Somehow I don't understand what to do with him How grateful, we get 'time' that Unexpected we did together So, I promise will do anythings with heart never want to fail and keep confident.. That 'cool boy' ; drug of life. Why? Can you describe what thing or person can make you more wide and friendly to be? I choose him ( one of many things) He isn't my ambision, just like my qoute hanged in wall. Every day I read it, see it, and fill me. Oh yah, he just like pathogens inject my receptor antibody. Oke that's already flat. Bye for prepare anygoodbyes.
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
Cool boy
Darkness needs no fancy tricks to mess up your whole day. He simply must sit and wait for you to go astray. There is plenty here without his help to bring you down to size. He laughs and watches from his perch with amusement in his eyes. For rarely does he need to act in any special way He simply whispers your own fears back, toying with his prey. A rude remark, a sneer or glance from someone you don't know Are just some tools he can use to keep you down and low. So look up my friend to the sky and try never to forget That life is short, but oh it's worth not to heed his threats. For once you learn his secret tricks you see them rather quickly Allowing you to shake it off and move along more swiftly.
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Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
Whispered
16 years ago many woke up not knowing this day would be their last coworkers, Friends, Couples, Brothers, Sisters, All lost in the Rubble The Attacks left us scared and afraid But We banded together to show the ones who wanted to break us that we won't back down It is hard to think that on a normal day that the news that Mommy or Daddy wouldn't come home had to be given to young children It is hurtful to think that there are people out there  that want to hurt us It is scary that there are people who won't even remember the day and the events that took place simply because they weren't alive. But Today we remember the Events that happened that changed the course of history In Our Eyes Forever
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Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
Rememberance