Nights of screams

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    Nights of screams

    Like the vidios that recount my past, may I one day turn back time to my youth where I can right the wrongs put upon my head by others wanting to take my life, a simppler timewhen I only had to survive, days of torture, nights of screams, living nightmares that huant my mind, scars that fill my skin and make others stare, hate fills my soul and causes my heart to suffer so, injoyment I only find in the love of wife and children who look past the ugly and scars to find a man with a full heart, long suffering gone in a morning kiss and smiles shared over a breakfast table, I survive now making your nights nothing like mine.  

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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