unforgotten

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  Childhood last for so many years, but not very long The mind of a child lives on for so long, Until the age that you spawn as you no longer are considered a child by law
Nevermind that your scared! Give me truth! Give me the first thought Not the nice thought! You, I want you! Not a mask of polite-niceness I want the hammer that breaks the rock Give me truth!
Poetry is not the fashioning of words, it is the forging of swords. Poetry is not the stanzas or the verse, it is the carriage or hearse. Poetry is not just some thoughts to a rhyme, it is the journal of time.
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