Poetry. Oh the beauty of poetry.

Thoughts unfurl like cigarette smoke as I ash old memories away of corked pain,a bitter wine, that never ages gracefully.



Sorry for the emotional outburst on the previous post. But yet, how true can it be? I'm sure there comes a day where it must have passed through your mind, somewhere.

Yet, there are times again where I feel.
Darn, do I really deserve these people -.-

but apart from that...
Between the two weeks since that post, apart from the replies I got here. People actually did text messaged me asking whether I was okay. Even the few, online on the rare occasions when I'm on MSN.

Good to know that there will be those few who you know you can definitely count on. Thanks