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Some people are never happy unless they are complaining about something.
Makes me wonder if they have some kind of cult somewhere that we don't know about.
Great words, Charlotte. Very easy for me to relate to. Poetry as a comfortable chair.
You are in my friends list.
Night wanders inAnd coils around my leg-Meowing up at me, toScratch it's back-And search for fleasMy eye twitches as IPluck the night andFling it into the firstBurst of dawn.