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Post by Laura on Jan 23, 2006 7:08:20 GMT -6
if everything started this way I could say I'm forcing it all the words I've ever written have never been born talent I wanted to be a poet so I pretended I was and I started to believe it and now I that I truly am, I can't escape it.
Sometimes I don't want to write but I need to develop my creative side so I should take up painting or construction but I know at the end of the day I'd still be writing.
What's so powerful about words? they've never done anything for me when my lover picked up and left no words came to my rescue and when grandfather died no words comforted me how can rest in peace rest me?
so how useful is poetry? and am I doomed to be this poet? I strived to write - and now I starve to stop.
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Post by Only Me on May 30, 2006 17:41:23 GMT -6
"so I pretended I was and I started to believe it and now I that I truly am, I can't escape it" Those words can mean so very much and even though for this poem they are speaking about being a poet, I read so much more into it. great wording!
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