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I am am not worried


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I would like to leave you a picture of me here. As I try to do it, a deathlike shroud keeps drawing closed the curtain on my play of words blocking my thought somehow. After typing a hundred meaningless sentences I find these words are going to be all I have I can give you. I will post again when I can be clear, but there seems to be a brain function dieing from pain right now and I need to find out what is causing it so I can get my focus back again.
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I found an answer to my riddle that sense seemed has clarity in them.

 

I am afraid to ask, for I do not feel sure I can in anyway, and yet still I feel the need to say, "How can I help?"

 

Be it within my humble means I would like to be able to. It seems I have found myself to write all forms of trying signs to fuel that and ignite it in others. I did these word in pain and sorrow which finally grew to be what was. I had a gum infection which needed tending but I could not find it for I have a tolerance for pain that is unbending.

 

Now I can I get on with the game of which I thought gave me pleasure. But I am confused with all else, except for what these words I type, "How can I help?"

 

If posting in friendly, comical, or poetic talk is no more then I have I would be bad to pretend I can help in any other way.

 

So, as I feel the pain subside in my mouth and my mind goes back into the comfortable sensible glide I feel I at least need to say, can I help. No drugs have I or have I taken to find these glorious words. That is all I ever wanted to do. Somehow the times have taught me to be shy of anyone I met as it seemed they wanted to help them self to, to what I had thought was for me and me alone.

 

So I'll be true to post here as much fun as I can and boast here about myself if a friend is all you seek. Otherwise I will surmise that I will have to go away. For fear someone will bring a gun and rob me of me words some day.

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Pagafyr, you may be aware that my garden is open to guests once more. I hereby invite you to share one of your eloquent and verbose poems with us there.

 

Sure thing...As soon as I get my noggin working without the painful little critters playing the brains cells like a huge stringed instrument I would be glad too.

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