When all that can be said has fallen on deaf ears, As the last notes of a tired song lie silent on the mind, quiet frustrations, crazy obsessions, old food on a flowered plate, new dawn on a Monday morn, the last cigarette and the final strike of an ancient matchbook, the silent daughter and the striking fist of an angry mother, a lost day, a lost love, a lost mind, the triumphant celebration of life known as sorrow.
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Updated Thursday, 04-Mar-2004 14:58:28 PST