Got me again my heart is like a yoyo trusting places with web faces the internet is not a user friendly places. Forums making rules to keep the individuals away how do they group who do they carry on away without the eye. Now my courses has delivered me from dearth of searching striving posting all the things eye loved to do for many days gone deleted away a brain dead moderator filled with hate sent me to the screen door place to shut it there behind mee and away eye went to find a new place to play. The many sided facetnating individual that eye become just wanted to be in a group to be someone forum after thread after group after search after home after welcome come and gone. Not depressed but repressed what good is hindsight when the barn door won’t shut eye feel it is not ever the fault of eye eye can not be certain of course but losing my courses just now today taught me not to take it so close to my heart. Eye write clarity in a sentence with syntax avoided eye write an epic in three nasty lines. Eye add dogma in only three words of salvation eye add definitive terms to words let them fly. The word document program must have been created by the black people it keeps trying to make me talk Afrikaans. Eye have had several homes for several years only to lose them in one blinding moment of time to ignorance and hate NO gentile reader ewe not MINE it was they. Eye was using way too many heart throbs and muscles in my poems. Eye need to distance my self from others at a time when eye needed to be somewhat closer to them all. Can you feel the hate dripping from the heart of eye eye still relate to wanting love but first the beating then the other beating then the deletion from the forum now the courses gone also the places that eye love eye added one more new place today to take away the withdrawal eating and drinking is okay as long as its non alcoholic it can still be gluttonous as well as nutritious there is two food groups in a pizza there is bread and cow. Longfellow said it better then the eye in his poem The Cross of SnowThere is a mountain in the distant WestThat, sundefying, in its deep ravines Displays a cross of snow upon its side.Such is the cross I wear upon my breast These eighteen years, through all the changing scenesAnd seasons, changeless since the day she died. Eye am depressed repressed and wasted in my life. Perhaps the added misery of broken bones and knoeledge of mye mortality has awakened me to life. The Cross of Snow of mine was only for two years not the eightteen long of fellow bard yon Henry full of worthywords the Longfellow.
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Comments about this poem (108Betrayal108Repression by Charles Hice )
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