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Post by Burnttonothing on Jun 18, 2004 0:45:33 GMT -5
She’s becoming so withdrawn It’s like she’s completely gone She’s never all there And she never seems to care Who is the child of which they speak? The one in the corner with tears on her cheek
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ravagedsoul
Dark Initiate
Love is the slowest form of suicide . . .
Posts: 5
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Post by ravagedsoul on Jun 18, 2004 2:43:19 GMT -5
so beautiful. short, but filled with sorrow . . .
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Post by Lina Inverse on Jun 19, 2004 22:50:44 GMT -5
She’s becoming so withdrawn It’s like she’s completely gone She’s never all there And she never seems to care Who is the child of which they speak? The one in the corner with tears on her cheek Where is she? Where is she? Within another's heart? Beating her, raping her, And she never seems to care A child, never asked for-- The one in the corner with tears on her cheek.
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Post by Burnttonothing on Jun 22, 2004 2:48:47 GMT -5
She seems so cornered, She seems so mourned. Unwanted, but still there Why doesn't she care? What happened to the child who was so obviously reviled? This child who never shrieks but still has tears upon her cheeks.
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Post by Moonstone Maiden on Nov 16, 2004 0:48:28 GMT -5
Has she been used? Or was she abused? Her sorrow is a yearn, I must know why, I must learn. What has happen to her? Is love to her, but a blur? Her tears flow like creeks, yet she still has moist upon her cheeks.
An Answer... I have searched every face, I have ventured to every place. But the answer is unfound, my eyes are still bound. My pain sleeps with just one eye, it shall not be satisfied until I die. Death it wishes, so much to hold, My story, please, must not be told. Why do you watch me at play, your worries, like light, speed far with the day. But my worries are of no concern to you, I must do this alone, not with you too.
More Questions...
What is it that you must do? I shall venture along too. Do not hold me back, for I care, I cherish you for you, not the Death that you wear. the child with tear-soaken hair.
A Resistence...
Do not follow me, I care not for your embrace. Your words mean little, I'm still a disgrace. Do not reach for my hair, nor stoke my hair, wait all you wish, I won't be there.
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