I have 145 stories published in
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Look to your left And you will see Standing still The ruin of me Ivy clad, crumbling stone A heart, alone. Battered by the wind Beaten by the sea But still standing, still
It's as if your eyes Are a painted sign There for all the world to see The end of the line But it's just me who reads What have I been fighting for? In other words You don;t love me anymore
Billy's in the 'Bull-Ring' Half way through the slog Left a nasty present for the bosses In the bog Here comes the supervisor dressed up In his shirt and tie, quipping
It was late when Tom got back from work. I heard the hum of a taxi dropping him off. It took him a while to unlock the door, the jabbing of the key at the lock, before he got it in...