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Old 04-27-2011, 11:11 AM   #1
2vt8c2p4
Second Lieutenant
 
Join Date: Feb 2011
Posts: 408
2vt8c2p4 is on a distinguished road
Default the warmth that I

,beats by dre
my dream

total sleep every night if you meet

about looking at your hand brushed my face warm wipe away the tears of my eyes

You always tell me not to give

nights

never forget the oath you have to discard our original ideals Buceng

night deserted me sadness in the dark waiting for heart

the moment the sun rises ushered in bright brilliant light

exhausted all my strength so

every second

can not stop the cries of heart do not want to stop looking for your dreams

fragile and lonely I have been thrown to the side

hanging in his face,Casques Monster, leaving only the eternal smile and that touch of shallow stubborn

I let myself to brave

these days you never see a sudden

miss you like you have led my hand the ups and downs along the way

you no longer will I wipe the tears away from me

you let go of my hands because I grew up

the you that I no longer pure



or I had you let you down again because I lost

vulgar self-made is no longer what you want to follow master

not ideal because there is no vision I began to want to go with the flow of live

because I violated the convention turned its back on our initial promise to you because my oath

is no longer a pure heart was ideal for all children regardless of

I grow up,Polo Ralph Lauren, I'm secular,tods, I no longer have ideals,beats by dre, I do not even dare to dream,beats by dre, I was not a reality in the real people.



I forgot that you forgot our promise

forgot you want me to never give up

I am no longer young,Polo Ralph Lauren pas cher, I am no longer brave fear of losing everything we have now I am timid and selfish



but I really miss you like you come to think of your long absence, the warmth that I

I know that you decided to leave the moment you have and I made a last farewell you this life and I will no longer meet

But my dreams,vibram five fingers, my dear do you understand my pain to know There are too many in this world there are too many of helplessness can not grasp the change that we can not resist the reality of

to the final only wish you could see clear

in life you gave my heart is forever

every minute day and night in the growth of you because I miss my tears and my failures and successes are

you give love you deeply love you

my dream

my youth

(Editor: sammy)


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The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.
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