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Page Three


Life can be what you made it, so they say.
But there is no room in life for a person who feels everything.
The pain, the happiness...All experienced while the whole world laughs, one person cries, and cries in vain...
For everyone else...and last but not least...himself.



My mind cannot comprehend the thought of another mind with the same potential, knowing the meaning of love, which was thought to be such an utterly unforsaken thought.
And then spring came....melting all the ice, which kept an every living light sealed in....growing out....encompassing all.



Lightening flashes through a voice of emptiness
and reveals planets of thought
which no electric current can alter.


"Serenghetti Survivor"

In a state, caught between sleep and wake.
Which am I?
For it does not matter anymore...every moment seems to be an abyss, unreal so as to not let me feel anything as much as possible.
Even though I live in a concrete jungle of city, my games of being Gone have gotten so good that I hear the drums of the tribesmen beating in the distance, calling for all to come.


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Poetry by:
Jenny and Pamela

Imagery by Pamela

Jenny and Pamela

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