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By Aims

Desperate. fleeting thoughts of regret flood my mind, drowning any sense of logic or pride Despair. lost in the translation of your pain embarked on the mission to your heart, with the knife i took from my back Presence. sickened by the thought of your touch but seeking the thought of you Love. neverending torture i long for you, but You are nothing more than Desperate.

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February 5, 2006 19:36Crimson.Wings

i tihink this is a really good poem. i couldn't stop reading it.

February 7, 2006 19:03Faith

I like the style... i wrote a poem like this, it's like a neverending cycle.