I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Once before—but that had been different. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. Go to your sister, and do not quit her till all is over. My Mom’s stomach has a lot of bad scars that make it look all ropy and weird. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. ” He stated. “Come on. She was my first love. “You too were deceived.
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