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Words: 112
Access: Public
Comments: 7

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Bottled Up Inside

You tell me about your day.
About how that guy cut you off.
And how that dumb blonde waitress-
Spilled coffee all over your brand new suit.

And I nod, silently.
Because I understand, I do.

You tell me about your day.
About how you missed that deadline.
And how your neighbors fucking dog-
Wouldn't stop barking all night long.

And I shrug, silently.
Because I understand, I do.
It's happened to me too.

You tell me about your day.
About how this happened.
And how that guy got you so pissed.

And I sigh, silently.
Because I understand, I do.

Oh my day?
I don't want to say.

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Comments  
stu8rt Comment by: stu8rt - 2006-11-23 10:06
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I love talking my day thru in my mind or at others. But when pushed for converstion I really can't be bothered. I understand, I do too. Cheerz
Comment by: - 2006-04-22 10:17
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I loved it. It's like how my mom and dad talk except the other way around. My mom will sit and spill her day and he's not allowed to say a word about his. Kinda strange really. Anyway keep writing!
Comment by: - 2006-04-19 02:13
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I want to be reading what you write when you finally explode and put it onto paper. We all reach our capacity at some point and I'm wondering what's coming next. This was a well written piece I wouldn't change a thing. Keep up the good work.-B
hulshizer Comment by: hulshizer - 2006-04-18 12:56
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Interesting, but I wonder if you are not just a bit tired of being a sponge, soaking up another's problems?
Comment by: - 2006-04-17 17:45
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Such a great listener, but I am not sure if you resent the self absorbed speaker or if you simply prefer listening. Good job. - Leah
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