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By AnonymRichard Smyth
Is the undertaker joyous when his turn comes around? All those years holding the door open. To pass through - does it feel like a privileged?
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By AnonymRichard Smyth
I was well-read but perhaps that only made me stupid.
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By AnonymRichard Smyth
My pains, sometimes seem like witch hunters: confess, confess, confess. Like a heavy stone on my rib-cage. Confess to what? And, of course, I would confess, if only I knew what it was they wanted to hear.
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By AnonymRichard Smyth
Perhaps it's impolite to die so flippantly, after all she's done for me.
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By AnonymRichard Smyth
There are too many years around this table, too much time confined in one place.
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By AnonymRichard Smyth
whispers are often thunderous
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By AnonymRichard Smyth
You hear about ghosts: sad ghosts, angry ghosts.I'll tell you, the worst is when they laugh, and the worst sort are the ones whose faces I've forgotten.
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