We love ourselves too often and need reach out much more often. It is a social responsibility and it effects the environment also.
In times of oddity, some people follow me, and I turn to flash my abs at em, and they run, so I find the hidden stair case strewn with memories of pain, turned pleasure. Those in states of greed wish to expand, can get out of hand, but a poet writes and writes with no control over the rudder, letting something come out from within, somethings to leave with the color that is correct, to paint the clouds.
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I am in need of more opinions Perhaps there is a place where I can find some The kind that sound true The kind that make me feel good...