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Henerala

Beneath the Ice
the ICE is floating with the freezing breeze
beneath it
...the chilling stops
...the heat goes up
...the water starts to boil
for there dwells her heart.
There, the ice melt into tears...



I hate materialistic people...
I am materialistic...
...I hate myself

I don't believe in second chances

Saturday, October 27, 2007
His poem for someone

He speaks about a certain girl
A girl he said he loves,
he wants to protect,
and keep his promise to.

I listen to him
A guy I barely knew,
someone I just met
about two weeks ago.

He speaks, I listen.
Wishing the poem,
his confession of love
is for me.

Somewhere, someone
receives his poem.
The true owner
of his heart.

Beside him
I'm still listening,
eventhough he already
stopped speaking.


Saturday, October 27, 2007

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