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"Why me?" She sits in the corner of her room Crying and Slowly dying "Is it even worth it?" Should she end it?
One of my old poems: My heart grows colder My body grows harder My hair grows longer The days grow darker Look back and find I'm standing alone again And I come to discover
People are starving Becoming homeless and dying We got to make a change By making a committee we can arrange
I sit in my room every night trying to think "Why did we fight?"
I want to give freedom! I want to give it now To the African child thrust into warfare at random to the the millions starving men, women, and children to the thousands of kids
I understand why you "believe." We humans long for control. Desperately we seek it, always, but most when we have lost what little control we had and are left with none. "God" is a defense mechanism.
How much do I love you? How much do you care? What I would do for just your kiss and your stare? These questions frequently run through my mind. Sometimes it scares me, I wish I could hide.