dear delilah








Fathers, be good to your daughters; daughters will love like you do.

you are the strength and the weight of her world

poetry

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Stream her with roses and daisies, dear mother,
let all that she speak be all that that she hears.
For no higher, no higher let her forehead doth grow;
and so dote, dote my mother, my mother so dear
and let her run free with a conscience so clear


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Tuesday, 10 July 2007

my life is so not exciting.
maybe I should go skydiving....

nope. I'd faint in the air. (imagine me fainting. gosh.)



Anyway, I guess its quite a strange thing to think about, but its another one of those uber unhealthy "what ifs". What if my mother were still alive?

(don't be uncomfortable. I told you it was unhealthy.)
I had a list of possibilities. but I guess the most important I think would be quite simple.
.
.
.


"I wouldn't want to be a mother this badly."



Migraines again and again. I should really drag myself to some clinic one day, to get this checked out. They're making me quite grumpy.
I want to gouge my eyeballs out argh it hurts.

Lord, make it stop...

he told me that I've done alright
and kissed me till the morning light