Astrologists were wrong when they said I never show my emotions.
I've always been the outcast and the crybaby of the family but poetry is my devotion.
I don't care who knows or finds out about my secret love.
My emotions can't set me free from this cage like the whitest dove.
Should I keep going or stop my writing motion?

God was wrong when he sent me to be born on September Eleventh.
I'm nothing like a Virgo, please just call me an Amaranth.
War, love, and hate describe me on any given day.
When I look at her, the war ends and I'm tempted to stay.
In my mind I'm another ordinary kid that arrived the umpteenth.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

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Date: 8/13/2010 10:15:00 AM
this so fascinating my friend great write--------love emeaba.
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Date: 8/12/2010 9:03:00 PM
A nice write on virgo. John, Good luck
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Date: 8/12/2010 9:57:00 AM
Interesting write..Good luck in the contest if an entry..Sara
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Date: 8/12/2010 9:08:00 AM
i was born then!
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