mychai's Diaryland Diary

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A poem to think on

Twenty-three
Was a bad year for me,
Where most things just didn't go right.
"Just one day more!"
A goal: twenty-four
Things will get better, they might!

A few weeks away,
My next birth day,
And things are already swell.
I have new friends a-plenty
My love's innocenti
And I just got great email!

I'm working on a theory:
Each seventh year, dreary
This past one was completely sad.
Daisy's food on my bed,
"I hate you" she said,
Jackass was driving me mad.

A fantasy's potential
(this one, confidential)
Does not seem as dead as it did.
I'm dancing in my undies
I'm one more in three Sundies.
Twenty-three I'm glad to get rid.

12:12 a.m. - Monday, Sept. 24, 2001

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