I just wanna share this poem given to me by an old friend back in college...here it goes....


Where are we to go when this is done?
Will we slip into old, accustomed ways?
finding remembered notches, one by one?
Thrashing our way through quickening haze?
Who is it to know us when the end has come?
Old friends and families, but could we be
strange to the sight and stricken dumb
at visions of some pulsing memory?
Who will love us for what we used to be,
who now are what we are, bitter or cold?
Who is to nurse us with swift subtlety
back to the warm and feeling human fold?
Where are we to go when this is through?
We are the war-born. Where are we to do?

(by joel escovilla) thanks for the memory friend!I doubt if you still remember this:)
(this was handed to me by joel on August 14, 1998)



She cried...to full extent...
so that after this She'd be a better person...

His silence tore her into pieces.
Over and over she kept telling herself "this can't be real"!
"Damn! I don't deserve this!
I just accepted him...thinking this would be the
happiness I long waited."

But seemed like she made the wrong desicion,
the pain was like a torture...every waking hour was a realization
that reality hurts...really hurts.

There she was....surprisingly found herself in the comfort room.
Hoping to find relief and hoping to flush every single memory left 'bout him.
She turned the faucet in full,

...so that the sound of the water flushing would conceal her crying.

She wanted to shout 'till she could reach his soul,
and have him heard how much his neglect
made her like a wet cat that had been bitten so badly.

Too bad she invested feelings to someone less deserving....
Sometimes she wanted to condemn him,
But the more she tried to avenge herself,

the stronger her feelings for him had become...
Oh! How she hated the realization!

She knew deep in her heart, she wanted him back...despite!