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"investments" poems
Wussup, professional Latina? Diversity been good 2 U? Water warm enough 4 U? Shaking down enuf rich gringos to fund your Non-Profit? (*speak against capitalismo here*) Got time for la Revolución after your pedicure today? (mention the border here) still watching Oprah, Abuela? heard from your third ex-husband recently? Wussup consummate professional. (*turn on NPR here*) Got nail polish? Got car waxed? Got investments? (take a networking business lunch here) Have you streaked your hair enuf? (mention indigenismo here) I hope you are caring well for all the nietos and still have time to be a tiburona (insert italicized Spanish word here) How are all your gente ? (*mention mujeres fuertes here*) Hey Latina - when did you move out of the barrio ? (*mention La Raza here*) Mujer Latina—wussup. how is Gringolandia workin' out 4 U ? (turn off Univision here) 'cause if the oppression gets too bad you could always move back to Venezuela or Chihuahua or San Juan,  or... (*mention Trump here*) ...Miami?
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:01 PM UTC
Latina en la tina
As one chosen by God, certain attributes are demonstrated with loving regularity; despite one’s beliefs, showing kindness requires a daring of spiritual temerity. For The Lord expects His children to give Love towards people without expectations; know that being tenderhearted, helps one to naturally extend actions of compassion. Don’t think lightly, about the richness of kindness, it may one lead to repentance; its warm embrace softens the heart, while Salvation overrides Death’s life sentence. The merit of kindness can’t be overstated; being accepting, forgiving without judgment means not rigidly imposing beliefs on others. As His children, one should make investments in the individualized development of others. With the “Fruit of The Holy Spirit”, growth and maturation can be properly accelerated when applying by the principle of God’s oath to “humbly walk in Love” (as He requires). Kindness is patient, when paired with respect, justice, long-suffering and unconditional Love; the value of kindness, no one should neglect. . . . Author notes Inspired by: Eph 4:32; Gal 5:22-23; Heb 6:10; Rom 2:4; Luke 6:35; Col 3:12; Prov 3:3; Mica 6:8 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
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May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
Poem: The Value of Kindness
how is it that they still don't understand that we already ******* KnOw how to use Excel we already ******* KnOw how to pay the bills we already ******* KnOw and they're either too **** stupid to realize that we don't need coddling or saving or they're afraid to let us go they're afraid of losing their investments they're afraid of losing their power they're afraid to let us live
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Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:52 AM UTC
are you stupid?
Adjectives continue their downward spiral, with adverbs likely to follow. Wisdom, grace, and beauty can be had three for a dollar, as they head for a recession. *Diaphanous, filigree, pearlescent*, and love are now available at wholesale prices. Verbs are still blue-chip investments, but not many are willing to sell. The image market is still strong, but only for those rated AA or higher. Beware of cheap imitations sold by the side of the road. Only the most conservative consider rhyme a good option, but its success in certain circles warrants a brief mention. The ongoing search for fresh metaphor has caused concern among environmental activists, who warn that both the moon and the sea have measurably diminished since the dawn of the Romantic era. Latter-day prosodists are having to settle for menial positions in poultry plants, where an aptitude for repetitive rhythms is considered a valuable trait. The outlook for the future remains uncertain, and troubled times may lie ahead. Supply will continue to outpace demand, and the best of the lot will remain unread.
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Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Market Forecast (by Alexa Selph)
Christian louboutin NEW YORK, March 12 (Xinhua) -- The Economist Intelligence Unit released here on Monday a new research report showing that New York ranks first in competitiveness among 120 world's major cities. Christian louboutin shoes The report titled Hot Spots ranks the most competitive cities in the world for their demonstrated ability to attract capital, business, talent and tourists. Christian louboutin It highlights New York City's innovative Applied Sciences NYC project, which has resulted in the development of a new applied sciences campus being built on Roosevelt Island, expected to generate 6 billion U.S. Red bottomsdollars in economic activity. Christian louboutin shoes "New York City's position at the very top of this list is no accident: it's due to the investments our Administration has made and the world-famous ingenuity and creativity of New Yorkers," red bottom shoes said New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg. red bottom shoes New data from the New York State Department of Labor showed that New York City is leading the nation in terms of economic recovery, red bottom and the private sector jobs were added at a rate almost 60 percent greater than the country as a whole in 2011. red bottom shoes London was the second most competitive city, followed by Singapore, with Paris and Hong Kong tied for fourth place, according to the report. Among U.S. cities, Washington D.C., Chicago and Boston made the top 10. red bottom shoes
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Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 6:43 AM UTC
NYC ranks first in global competitiveness: report
royals mistake the tears cried over animals, esp. those wild and not petted, as if they were man’s added 1 to a million ‘ stones in minature form of the sandy: see that singleton quotation mark? it’s different pause from comma semi-colon or hyphen, it’s the ironic pause - almost compounding the two words. i skullhead i, i the skullhead, i, no more a body than a maxim, i the tomb in stone but in body a bone, i skullhead i, i the skullhead, no more a body than a maxim - why will not death wilt before engaging in the lives or mortals? why will death meddle in mortal amorousness when it will not meddle in a death of a god? **** you death! meddle elsewhere! who are prone to breathe the same air as you; interesting lives make less of a library than libraries readily mothering the lives hardly lived but nonetheless written... eager ***** in section 1, less eager ***** in section 1.5 mature ***** in sectiont 2 of being crazed by crosswords and those dumb books written by young men who "diverged from living" given horse was replaced by motorcycle... and feet were replaced by horse later replaced by ferrari... vroom vroom... and affordable life in london by saudi arabia investments; let's wave to our mothers... we'll be the ones on the premier red carpet for sure... it doesn't matter... i prefer opera to cinematic raqqa... and i prefer theatre to conversation.
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
carved with an ivory toothpick / where’s the rhino or harry?!
Surely my life's work Will be worth as much to them As it is to me, Waiting for sales to show here To feed my music budget.
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC
Investments
Halfway up a mountain on an ice-bound January day, I sought to reliquify a few calorific assets. I am no fool - I had been carefully investing a portion of each meal in certain holdings (mainly around the waist). Of course, I knew the safe route: balanced diet, carbs, fruit, veg; but a venture nutritionist such as myself pays little heed to such extravagant prudence. Fried breakfasts looked like offering a quick and reliable payoff and sure, for a while it worked. But guess what: Just when I needed the big windfall, nothing. Not a sausage, if you'll pardon the pun. "Sorry," a regretful body explained, "I know you'd think you could call on your investments "at the drop of a hat, "but actually they're kind of clogged, "a bit like your arteries." Wheezing, waiting for the mountain rescue helicopter, I spared a rueful thought for the taxpayer - the reluctant buyer of my safety. You might imagine I owe something in return, but I watch the news and I reckon I'll get away with it.
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Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 10:40 AM UTC
Taxpayer Bailout
Just wanna write, just wanna be loved. Hold my hand, give me a hug. Physical connections, emotional investments, but you just wanna **** with no other suggestion. Some days are better, others are worse. Put that pen to the paper, turn the pain into a verse. Sidestep the ******** take it straight on Trying to move forward but it seems my drive is gone. I can't fight it, can't hide it, like my brain and heart's divided. I won't show it, you don't know it, but we're both about to blow it. These thoughts in my head turn me into a big mess. I'll tell a stranger everything but I can't tell you a **** thing. What the **** is wrong with me? I want these guys that never see. Me for me. I'm a loving, honest, kind, hard working woman with a hard working mind. Maybe I should just mind my own business and keep my nose out of other people's decisions. But I can't help it, I don't want to. I feel the need to be involved too.
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Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
Strength is a Weakness
Fame and fortune Wall Street in wealthy being the name Mansions, clothes and vacation hot spots Living large and remaining at the top Life was sweet and filled with promise Stocks were up 100 percent Financial Advisors keep careful analysis in where investments go The accountants keep track of the business transactions flow It’s where all investments went But continuing living the life seemingly like Heaven sent But something went terribly wrong The Rich man’s health made a negative turn The investments were seeing anymore earn The Financial advisor began to steal This thieve was for real Suddenly stocks stumbled on down From riches to rags heading for devastation bound The Rich man was shocked and couldn’t make a sound All he could was cry He no longer wanted to continue to try Efforts no longer existed The Rich man was down to being a poor man Trapped in an uncertain caravan A Rich man being in a poor man’s sleuth But what was the former Rich man supposed to do? Keep living but having a purpose and a vision to pursue.
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Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
A RICH MAN’S CRY
Heavy clouds threaten the bankrupt horizon like bad book reviews. The bottom line looms ugly and final under everything. There's no money in trying to be a decent human being. Evil makes good investments, amasses a robust stock portfolio. Getting by is hard enough. Any day now, those ******** will find a way to tax sunlight. The rain follows me as I walk uphill.  Ahead of me, it's bright and dry, but the rain keeps pace perfectly, falling only on the backs of my shoulders, and somehow, this is not a metaphor.
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Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC
Uphill, With Rain At My Back
It's Sunday again for you cloistered patricians aloof from the madness, the magic and myth; who trust in your wisdom, investments, physicians unready to answer forthwith: "Why bother with worship—in church or the zoo— why weaken the links with a dull set of tools ?" you ask yourself over your high-end Tarrazu, bemused at the fables of fools. You've bartered salvation for New York Times articles, sipping on bitterness (shade-grown organic). You settle for molecules, atoms and particles unfairly-traded, satanic— while you celebrate emptiness, general futility musing on nothingness, sure of specifics ensconced in your kitchen of pampered gentility flirting with atheist physics. Those simple plebeians:  you'd love to enlighten them help them, like you, to become a free-thinker but you remain tasteful, for boldness might frighten them reeling in fairy tales: hook, line and sinker. Yet somebody, somewhere has uttered your sentence (though you abhor judgement, let's read it again). Sheba and Nineveh, versed in repentance await you—not whether but when. The darkness is brewing unholy filtration; the wine of the harlot approaches the rim; your guilt is augmenting in slow percolation; you shrug it all off on a whim. The souls of Assyria rise from your paper they watch in amazement, prepare your abyss. Your coffee now brims a more sulfurous vapor; oh sinner—there's something amiss: The crypts of Marib and the tombs of the Axumites shudder and groan while you're reading the Times... (immune to the words that some Christarded  poet writes mixing psychosis with rhymes.) Royal Sheba will chastise your erudite unbelief, smug self-importance and cynical squawk. Then she'll sigh with immense Ethiopian grief and her Highness Queen Bilqis will talk. It is Sunday in Babylon.  What if your sunlight ends... why are there mobs in the streets of the nation? Shall you have breakfast—or calculate dividends... what would you pay for salvation?
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Weakly Devotional
It's Sunday again for you cloistered patricians aloof from the madness, the magic and myth; who trust in your wisdom, investments, physicians unready to answer forthwith: "Why bother with worship—in church or the zoo— why weaken the links with a dull set of tools ?" you ask yourself over your high-end Tarrazu, bemused at the fables of fools. You've bartered salvation for New York Times articles, sipping on bitterness (shade-grown organic). You settle for molecules, atoms and particles unfairly-traded, satanic— while you celebrate emptiness, general futility musing on nothingness, sure of specifics ensconced in your kitchen of pampered gentility flirting with atheist physics. Those simple plebeians:  you'd love to enlighten them help them, like you, to become a free-thinker but you remain tasteful, for boldness might frighten them reeling in fairy tales: hook, line and sinker. Yet somebody, somewhere has uttered your sentence (though you abhor judgement, let's read it again). Sheba and Nineveh, versed in repentance await you—not whether but when. The darkness is brewing unholy filtration; the wine of the harlot approaches the rim; your guilt is augmenting in slow percolation; you shrug it all off on a whim. The souls of Assyria rise from your paper they watch in amazement, prepare your abyss. Your coffee now brims a more sulfurous vapor; oh sinner—there's something amiss: The crypts of Marib and the tombs of the Axumites shudder and groan while you're reading the Times... (immune to the words that some Christarded  poet writes mixing psychosis with rhymes.) Royal Sheba will chastise your erudite unbelief, smug self-importance and cynical squawk. Then she'll sigh with immense Ethiopian grief and her Highness Queen Bilqis will talk. It is Sunday in Babylon.  What if your sunlight ends... why are there mobs in the streets of the nation? Shall you have breakfast—or calculate dividends... what would you pay for salvation?
Continue reading...
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PINEAPPLE LIP GLOSS By: RENE Not long ago I fell in love With her beautiful lips I will never forget how sweet That lingering after taste Stayed in mouth well after she walked away And When She was almost out of my eye sight It became real cerebral melancholy of a love affair I had misplaced It took from me something objective Watching her leave of absence And From a distance At that very precise moment It became a sharp piercing pain in the center of my heart But I remember Oh how I remember I remember Her (PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS) The way we French kissed for long periods When I held on tightly Tightly til midnight The memory of her legs in white embroidery stockings How my fingers danced with excitement Triggering investments traveling up down her highway I was dizzy While tickling the measurements of her Inner thighs I remember this When I was Creating A representation That was supposed to last forever The further she walked the smaller she grew in my vision My eyes became a small rain storm drenching screaming Pulling me away from dreaming Away from my world as I had become too know it I Didn’t know what to say now Like words on a black board being erased I was at a loss for words So I held on to the memory Of Her (PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS) The way we French kissed for long periods No air escaping Imprisoning our tongs My own Perfect example I visualize an imagine I create in my mind the ability to conceive my own embodiment A pine apple salad with the juices flowing over When we touched each other’s lips Among other things!
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Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
PINEAPPLE LIPGLOSS
PINEAPPLE LIP GLOSS By: RENE Not long ago I fell in love With her beautiful lips I will never forget how sweet That lingering after taste Stayed in mouth well after she walked away And When She was almost out of my eye sight It became real cerebral melancholy of a love affair I had misplaced It took from me something objective Watching her leave of absence And From a distance At that very precise moment It became a sharp piercing pain in the center of my heart But I remember Oh how I remember I remember Her (PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS) The way we French kissed for long periods When I held on tightly Tightly til midnight The memory of her legs in white embroidery stockings How my fingers danced with excitement Triggering investments traveling up down her highway I was dizzy While tickling the measurements of her Inner thighs I remember this When I was Creating A representation That was supposed to last forever The further she walked the smaller she grew in my vision My eyes became a small rain storm drenching screaming Pulling me away from dreaming Away from my world as I had become too know it I Didn’t know what to say now Like words on a black board being erased I was at a loss for words So I held on to the memory Of Her (PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS) The way we French kissed for long periods No air escaping Imprisoning our tongs My own Perfect example I visualize an imagine I create in my mind the ability to conceive my own embodiment A pine apple salad with the juices flowing over When we touched each other’s lips Among other things!
Continue reading...
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They've turned life into a numbers game At least we agree there's no right answer But joy cannot be found in forever counting up because We start at zero and finish at zero and no matter How large our numbers got, this fact does not Make us any more "here" now, does it? No Good old George rising from his casket on Account of all the quality investments he made over The years, that's silly I count. down From birth a finite number of seconds allotted to Running risks by the hourglass like elders Skydiving when the grains are so few who Cares when we go but how                            How is the question And words will always                                always trump numbers
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Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 2:52 PM UTC
Digit
I know why some people act crazy after having their hearts broken. Bro    ken hearts can be mended with the help of time. Time is our most valuable wealth the most sacred thing we possess. Relationships are optional, they are investments, their values are determined by us. Hearts are broken because of high investments high commitments and raging emotions, hearts are broken because of our inability to accept the harsh truth. But, hearts aren't broken unless we want them to. I know why some people act crazy after having their hearts broken. Bro    ken hearts can be mended with the help of time. Now, we just need some time and mental strength.
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Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 9:33 AM UTC
deepest depth
*says "you don't need to have the world to have me but when you have me you have the world*
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
Investments
The investments The investments... The investments Pitch a hard sale quake a large scale Bobby ZPac west central you ain from here dont pull up The money goes to me im a real me real life investments talking investments Investmens
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Aug 3, 2023
Aug 3, 2023 at 8:44 PM UTC
"My Investments" By: Z/G
Everyday is a wake up struggle, Pack bags, one orange on the way we juggle, Family and work, life is double, It's hard to keep calm face, show no trouble. I know him and her of day to day, So fit and fine on chair they stay, Computer screen, staring away, Knows who what in background lay? Back home a kid cries for mom, Waiting for daddy to sing a song, Back home an old lady sitting calm, While they work for her meds & balm Ever wonder how many couple fights, To settle together at a work place right? Stress of work bald patterns light, Work work work, no sleep all night A drink with friends, end of a busy week, Time spend with self or many colleagues? Every peny for travel, savings, no leak, Getting leaves for vacations? chances look bleak. Can I keep this baby now? Will I be able to provide? And how? On flip side they have a baby, wow! Sweets & new pictures of baby bow. Financial misery to avoid, Fill insurance papers, with help of a guide, For extra outings investments tried, New car, furniture, for further studies to provide. Thought of a boyfriend, fiancée, husband, wife, Travel or celebrate kids bday is a strife, Tension encountered every minute of work life, Torn between emotions, decisions in office is rife. So many things going on in our mind, Nowhere to see, breathe or peace we find, This is a trade off of an evolving humankind, Something goes on in the background all the time.
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Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
Background
Dear Universe, I know that I **** up a lot when it comes to writing back but I am working on getting better. I'm actually working on getting better at a lot of things. When I get home, I plan on gathering some recipes, running on the treadmill, buying stamps, paying those parking tickets. In fact, I have a long list of to-do's in my head. You'd laugh if you could see the race my mind plays (or maybe you can)? It's exhausting. You know, I wanna love without fear. I want to be confident in my emotional investments. I want to hold her and not wonder where it is her mind wanders. I want to be the best non-girlfriend girlfriend a girl like her could have. I also want an even tan.
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Dear Universe (2)
knuckles ache peel back the page: Aurelius, Seneca, Epictetus cluck the tongue boys outside throw jabs over a cracked cricket bat a father frets over investments and client work, simple things. I read on wondering how so many words committed to tranquility could be attributed to so many men when women trained stoics since the womb would pen epics - if only they were not plucking stones from rice.
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Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 10:17 AM UTC
ataraxia
After all was said and done He wrapped himself around me In a tightly formed question mark The answer to which I yet do not know I spent the night tossing in confusion His midnight kisses further puzzling my thoughts A random hookup wasn't this to be? No feelings No attachments No anything Wasn't that the unsaid plan? Then why did I feel this growing fondness For a boy I barely knew Whose one and only connection to me Were the stupid investments our fathers had made Why did I want to hold him back? Kiss his cheeks with the same gentleness he showed me When the plan was always a physical one? This monthly ritual of his I succumbed to My mind overthrown by multiple questions While my body gave to him every part of me I could Until on a lonely Friday my eyes opened The metaphors I had discovered Now lay dead around me The reality lying startlingly naked ahead of me It was not care that brought him close It was not any symbol of love he saw A woman's body is all he acknowledged My soul never receiving the gratification it dreamed for There were no metaphors to this story No hidden secrets waiting to be discovered Just a girl who hoped for more Settling for a boy couldn't ever see more Than her naked waist The tickle of moving hair The flutter of her lips in ecstasy The sigh in her heart as he moved away
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Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 10:42 AM UTC
Hookups
Without any riches of money. I'm happy. I don't see too many millionaires able to say it. They more into investments and divorces and paying of alimony. Without many fancy things. I'm happy. Just living my life keeps me at it. Life wasn't giving to be stressed but stress free. Like a child with a smiling face and no worries. Yes, I'm happy to be love. Family, friends which requires no money. Happiness is, anything that keeps you smiling.
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Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
I'm Happy
Its hard to bare your reflection when your disturbed by the image it makes. As you stare into the mirror, your faced to deal with your mistakes. The truth of the matter is you can lie to the world, and live the life of an actor. You can portray yourself in many ways, but when you look in the mirror, you view the truth that you cant escape. Your just a pawn playing social chess just to be accepted, by interested impressionist. I stray far away and ignore getting ****** in, to associating with manican's  that pretend to be your friends. The social ladder is filled with actors, lies, and insecurities. So I judge alone by actions shown, and only trust my certainties. Most people base their judgements by your appearance and your current status. I guess my designs unique, I base my judgements by your actions. I stay true to myself, I'm not eager to be accepted. I view my friends as family and I'm willing to die for my investments. For all the time that I've invested, I  would give my life to provide protection. Because quality over quantity, is the "ONLY" acceptable method of friendship!
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Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
(Social ladder)
I have no noble name, no objects of great worth, nor a penny to my name, I have not the looks of a prince, or equivalent charm, no land, nor investments, by all accounts of the world, I am nothing, yet by the standard of the Lord, I have wealth of wisdom, love, passion, trust, integrity…. or so I have been told, my loyalty is unwavering, my resolve immovable, where there is evil, my heart remains steadfast, and it shall break upon me as water does upon a rock. You wonder as to why, why you should trust me, have I led you astray, have I given such a false impression that I might have led you to believe that confidence and respect is not something I value, for I can greatly assure you, I do care greatly for it. Tho’ by the standards of the world I am but a broke, and lowly man, to the other aspects of the world I am surely rich, I have no proof, I have no support for these claims, does my argument falter? Nay, my heart is as much apart of these words as my mind is for creating them, I produce this testament in support of my character, My heart, my very being, pray that you trust me, for this is something I value.
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Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 4:16 AM UTC
Wealth of Character.