Poetry: The Present

I can not abide this mental torture Much too quickly the time flies The past I miss, I long for the future But the present I despise

Poetry: A Perfect Life

I can hardly wait ’til I get married, to start a family I call my own. After work come through the front door and say: “Honey, I’m home!” We’ll marry in church, not a cathedral. I’ll see friends, family, guys I once knew. Then I’ll say in front of all those people: “Ofcourse I do!” …

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