"...And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree."
There's going to be blood on my hands this year. Or maybe a severe injury. To hope, to pride, to two-facedness, to spinelessness, to false impressions. To acting up, to pretending, to denying happiness.
I keep it all in, and it just grows and grows. Bloody hell.
4 comments:
my gawd, have i felt this efore or what! i hear ya..
you wanna let some steam off? i am told i am a good ventee... ( i know that's not a word)
Hey Haathi,
Yeah, one of those things. How did you manage to get rid of it?
Bica,
Naah... Thanks for the offer, though.
i have learnt that its best to have it out than let it fester and grow and build negative energy. so i try and do that. i dont always succeed because its not always easy to speak ones mind, especially in situations like these..but i try nonetheless :)
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