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Written by p. matthew radosevich
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Sunday, 06 April 2008 |
The noise and hot wind combined,tear through my soal like a train and in vain i weep the tears of a thousand men and a thousand tears.My life from the start wasnt art,wasnt smiles,a child who was born to loose and choose,not a word i ever heard,a dream ripped at the seams before the taste of life touched the soal and told me run before i could walk and sing before i could talk.The busses and trains,the noise and bad boys,evil toys,a mess and a weight on my chest before i could breath.Before life had a chance to tell me thers more.I swore my gift would uplift and moveme from the slum.I was burned into and not another dead flower.My power was within but the days i encountered pulverised and shredded my every bright thought,every dream and every goal,repeated the sword that fell upun my vunerable head.I am but one,the son of wind and rain and my pain will help me gain the strength i need and bleed spirits and music and art...I see...I see...I see....I have to believe in me.
Copyright 2008 p. matthew radosevich
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Last Updated ( Sunday, 13 April 2008 )
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