

BladeIt lies there so still, It makes me kill. Sharpening the blade, It makes me fade. Penetrate it through the layers, It feels so effortless. I retract the blade, only for you to fall in a heap. Help you say, help Thats no way to be a Celt. I turn away and walk, Thinking when Im going to be caught. Never, Ill never be caught, My blade and I are so hotBlade


toughts by the pierSitting here at the edge of the pier, Makes me realise the sea is so near. The waves come crashing in, And thrash against my feet. I look up only to see a fleet, Not a fleet of birds, Nor ships, Its one of dreams. I can only dream, That one day my life will be supreme. So here I stand on this pier, Thinking that life is so dear, If only I was rescued by one who is so feared. Thats me standing by the piertoughts by the pier


A wee poem for DannyHERE I AM, THINKING OF YOU, BE IT GOOD OR BAD,A wee poem for Danny
AT LEAST ITS NOT SAD, TROUGH TOUGH TIMES, YOU HELD MY HAND, LEADING ME TROUGH STRANDS, WHEN YOUR NOT HERE, I'M BITTING MY EAR, SOLID IT MAY BE, BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE LIKE ME, THINK OF THE TIMES, THE TIMES THAT SAW US SPLASH WITH JOY, BUT NOW ITS JUST AN ANNOY.
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Stella: There's something gooey here.
Mac: Gooey? There's a good forensic word. Gooey. I'll have to use that more.
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