him....

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  • Love

    him....

    i love him i hate him, its all the same. because in the end it was all just a game.

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    bjroach55 commented on him....

    12-17-2008

    hey do not forget to remember the beautiful things in life do not forget there is no time for games or for someone who plays them

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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