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    I lay in a room at night thinking what it is I done so wrong. Why is it that I try to be nice and friendly to people, yet every time I turn around I'm always alone? What have I done so wrong? the answer to these questions I can not find. I have come to the decision that I am to nice and friendly, so people walk all over me and I allow them to do me that way. Why?

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    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

    Bigmomma23’s Poems (4)

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