Disobedient children are like daggers that pierces they parents hearts.
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Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among pink-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each white mausoleum, to inquire—
What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?
('Completing the Pattern' by Michael R. Burch)
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if you're not surrounded by people who achieve, then you are surrounded by people who need to lie, and they will be dishonest to you, as it is what they do, and will always do, lies are their use and without them they're useless, your friend who blags often with such lame excuses, blaggers like that are not friends they are users, their lies are achievements, the achievements of LOSERS! let them go
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Some recollections can be daggers that stab your heart leaving scars and jagged pieces of you, and others can bring a smile.
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