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Post by a marble short on Sept 29, 2014 12:48:41 GMT
I hear you small child, I feel you small child,
Sobs echo from the depths of this dusty tomb,
So painful each rasping sound, crushed felt pain,
Unseen yet I feel the wrench of each tear,
Where are you? I want to hold you, to comfort you,
Each corner I turn, darker, gloomier than the last,
So cold the walls to touch, unloving, foreboding,
I still hear you small child, feel you, yet blinded I cannot find thee,
Panic soars, cried echoes grow louder from all angles,
Where are you small child? Fingers stretch out into the dark,
I hear you small child, I feel you small child,
Each sob stabs at me, cuts, jabs through my aching heart,
Seams of my sanity stretch, rip, tear from the fabricate of my mind,
Exhausted I slump, I sit, I curl become a foetus to my darkened corner,
Tears fall from my eyes, the sobs, my sobs, distant voice echoes deep inside,
I hear you small child, I feel you small child.
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Post by Barry Hodges, Bard of Gosforth on Oct 2, 2014 15:37:48 GMT
A bit on the depressing side. I think I'll slit my wrists to cheer myself up a bit.
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Post by rabbi sammy schtupp on Nov 21, 2019 16:05:10 GMT
Oi weh!
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Post by Daphne on Nov 21, 2019 16:27:24 GMT
Up yours, rabbi!
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