Living in an unconcious state,
arrows came shooting in all directions.
Arrows of family, arrows of friendship, arrows of nature, arrows of man-made objects.
Arrows from everywhere come shooting, all at one time.
Unconcious, defenceless.
I stood there and got shot.
Laying there injured, I stand none of these no more.
Injured and weak, what more can I do?
The more I rebel, the more pain I receive.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
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