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My Poems
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15
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The Paintbrush |
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9
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The Dragon in my drawer. |
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10
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Our friendship is real |
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11
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Did I pass your test for friends? |
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9
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I have to live with myself and so.... |
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14
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nothing gold can stay |
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6
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nuthing matters |
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10
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materialisticism |
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5
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4:20 |
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8
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set me free! |
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7
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Why me? |
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8
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In Me! |
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9
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For Sale! |
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7
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Battle! |
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9
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Silence! |
Battle!
The last of my strength is sapped,
Gone with my last move.
All my reserves tapped,
Just one more strike,
To finish the deed.
I am pounded again.
Too weak to stop his mighty lead.
I dish out a final blow.
Desperate in my time of need.
He is finally felled,
With a thunderous crash.
I collapse into a welcoming black,
Too weak to go on.
As I hear his loud cackle,
In my last moments of life,
My last thoughts are of the Battledome.
As well as my last battle.
| On October 22nd 2007 dcmartin21 Said : | |
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it is a nice poem, kinda sad but most poems are |
| On May 9th 2007 tswieberg Said : | |
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Sounds like you fought back....nice poem! |


