Monday, June 07, 2004

With every passing day
She hates me more!
With every passing day
Her despise doth grow!
With every passing day,
My image in her mind
Erases to oblivion.

Is there nothing we can do now
For the things we once had done?
Can we not tread the path
Of the memories we shun?
Can we not choose the thorns
But choose the rose so red?
Can we not forget the days
That we both so do dread ... ?

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