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WRITTEN 1/31/1997

Denial, refusal of thy self
is it imposed on me to end
the war to break down the
door within my mind to refuse
my surroundings and myself.
'Tis noble in the mind to think my
brain and life are like a sea of
troubles, would life grow like
a tree ever so slowly even I
can't see it grow. Only how
pointless life hath become with
only my battered past lying in the
ground. Full of holes and hate
do I dare disperse that which has
created myself. Only sweet comforts
can soothe my ragged soul.
To write in the past and future. Do I
dare ordain the power which lies
within or do I see ground upon
my rotting soul........................


Is it worthy of my biddings to
do such a horrid thing as this.
The rotten door grows with every
second pushing happiness deeper
within me. My guilt rises like the
sun, only the fear of myself is known.
Will it be today or some day soon
that the keys I own will unlock thy
heart and let it beat like the drummers
drum that sounds the awful dread and
firing of guns. Let no one know my
death like all others set like the sun,
so ends thy self on blank parchment
on my rotting soul...........................