

SuperficialI like to think that things arent important. That I could walk away, and not look back. But Im sorry to say, that here today Ive come to grips with the facts.Superficial
My life is consumed by the things I own, And the never-ending hunt for more. So the question you ask, were today my last, And disaster was beating down my door;
What would I save from this destructive knave? Given only a moment to prepare? Its just to hard to choose, I need more time Its become quite troublesome, this speaking in rhyme
So Ill end on this note


The PuppetHe sits contently, alone on her shelf, His glassy eyes staring blindly into space An artificial smile locked on his face Is he happy? Sad? Does he feel at all?The Puppet
His rigid body seems almost frightened The plush playroom hiding sinister beasts, Creatures that take residence in his mind What is it that scares something with no life?
Still he sits on that shelf, forgotten Gathering dust, he is now but a relic The playroom goes dark, as do his eyes What does his smile look like in the dark?
And so he waits, alone and staring His mournful eyes fixed on
[link]
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Have you had your Sargon today?
I see what you did there.
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If there was a cure for boredom, art wouldn't exist.
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Why step through the door when you can look through the window? The world is much less frightening from the other side of the glass.
ignore the page trolling welcomers >C
YOUR MY IRISHMAN NOT THURS.
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Have you had your Sargon today?
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Why step through the door when you can look through the window? The world is much less frightening from the other side of the glass.
This is a lovely place. I’m sure u will like it a lot
-Priyantha
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My page is [link]
Have a look when u get some free time and tell me what u think of it!
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A dream left to rot in the recesses of our minds does not die, but eats away at our souls like a cancer.
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