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Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was--
for what I was: from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.

Added: 9 Jan 2002 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 4:24 AM | Viewed: 4198 times

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