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Jo
Jul 15, 2005 22:57:15 GMT -5
Post by Chickas on Jul 15, 2005 22:57:15 GMT -5
Memories keep flowing through Of her lying on the bed Battered, bruised, and helpless Not being able to move To be who she is This just isnt her She's a lively person And when I went in To finally see her All she could do Was look at me As I held her hand She started to cry And as I said goodbye All I could do Was feel the tears Built up inside
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Jo
Sept 14, 2005 4:36:45 GMT -5
Post by Rain on Sept 14, 2005 4:36:45 GMT -5
Is Jo your friend? It does sound sad... I hope if it's a personal, true story (or poem),... just chucks you, unable to find the words.
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Jo
Sept 15, 2005 16:07:31 GMT -5
Post by Chickas on Sept 15, 2005 16:07:31 GMT -5
Jo was my brothers grandmother who always treated me as one of her grandchildren, i just always called her Jo. this poem is about when she was on her death bed and i would come visit her and thats all i saw because of the strokes she had she couldnt move. i wasnt there the night she died though but that pretty much was the end when i saw her last. what do you me by "just chucks you"
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Jo
Sept 16, 2005 3:09:46 GMT -5
Post by Rain on Sept 16, 2005 3:09:46 GMT -5
Oh, now I understand. I thought she was your good friend who commited suicide or so. But I'm glad it's not the case. Not that I see your grandmother dying also but death is inevitable. It will come for all of us and I just hope it does take some feelings into consideration to either quicken or delay her arrival.
I didn't know anything wise to say, therefor I just chucked (stroked you), as it's better to hold your tongue than saying completely worthless things.
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