Love knows no boundaries
Hate creates more than it needs
The mind becomes weakened
The soul continues to feed
Confidence lags behind
Pride stands in our way
Pain becomes an addiction
White turns to grey
Prayers go unanswered
Mouths speak of hate
Hope becomes an illusion
Faith is only portrayed
Charity fell apart
Kindness had bad intentions
Greed took on the role
selfishness broke its heart

When confusion and sin was my fashion
God's lead and love was my friction
now I know that my help comes from you
the power that carries me through
When disaster came stripped me of most
from my innermost in You I will boast
now I know The Shelter, Refuge and Truth
You stick with me since my youth
by +Titus Frimpong 

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┼×imdi ne kadar istiyorsan o kadar mesafe olsun
Yak─▒n et el y├╝rekleri y├╝re─čine
Ellerin a┼čk olsun yaban tenlere
Dudaklar─▒n ├Ârselensin zakkum dil darbeleriyle
Sen istedin
┼×iirlerin dibine kadar yolun var sevgilim ...

Ye┼čim Demirelli

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S├Âz├╝m olsun A┼×K
Vazge├žmeyi bilecek kadar sevece─čim seni ...

Ye┼čim Demirelli

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My soul is an ellipse, my mind is a rectangle, my heart is a star in the night sky, my love is a dream gone by, but it shines like the moon.
My hope is an octagon, my will is an arrow, I shall give up never!.

Play on shapes - TK

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ÔÇťThe Day is Done

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.ÔÇŁ┬á
ÔÇĽ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems

Slowly put my heads up and take a look
An angelic face that reading a book
Those poker reaction that get my hook
Even now my attention he just took

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