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AngelsAs we all sat around our tables, wondering what was going on, a friendly priest poked his head in to check on us, "Hope you all are behaving, and Guess what? You're having a visitor!" he said. Than Father stepped aside, letting The next priest, Father Carrier come in. "Hello everyone," he said in a small, sad voice, "I'm sorry for intruding..", "Oh, no no no, its all right, father Carrier, we are pleased to have you here," interrupted the teacher. "Ah, thank you, now I'm sorry, but my bad health has made me weary." Father Carrier said, he had recently gotten a brain tumor, taking away his sight in his left eye and making it hard for him to stay up for a long period of time, "If, while I'm talking, I stop for a short period to sit, please, go on with your studies." and he pulled up a chair and stood up and began his Speech;Not long ago, as you know, I fell ill to a Brain Tumor, Taking my sight and some ability to walk. When I fell ill, I was sent to the hospital, there I stayed for a w
God Given GiftGod Given GiftWill You Stray me?God Given GiftWill You Disobey me?God Given Gift!What have you Done?God Given GiftIve only Just BegunGod Given GiftI`m Not the AnimalGod Given GiftI Am Not CrucialGod Given GiftAm I Your Pet?God Given GiftAm I to use a Net?God Given GiftAre You an Angel?God Given GiftAre You Going to Strangle?God Give GiftMust You Derange Me?God Given GiftWhy Are you here!?God Given GiftMust not I Fear?God Given GiftI Fear for My LifeGod Given GiftI Must Win The StrifeGod Given GiftGod Given Gift
Poetic DeathJames Was a Smart BoyKnew Nothing of Those Sex ToysJames Loved to WriteHe Never Knew about the FightsJames Loved His MotherJames Loved His FatherWhen he Found They FightHe Began to WriteWrite about Death,Love and SexHe Would Write About PainAnd his Loss in The GameHe Would Write Till His hand had Gone NumbYet he Continued to writeHe Continued to Write About those that were DumbAnd THose That Fear The NightOne Day He decidedHe Would Write Non-StopUntill his Death Place Was ResidedHe Will Write Withought ThoughtAnd When that Day CameThe Police Found Him in His roomWith a Extremely large Parchment, a Pen just the SameHe was Dead, A Poetic Meal of DeathA Poem to End allThey Posted it Up in the Family's HallFor all To SeeAnd all to ReadThey Say his Mind WandersThrough the Poet's Thoughts Without a SoundStealing a Glance at the Next Poet's WondersJust like that dead boy, Writing The Poem That lies on The Ground.