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A view from…  

Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Tue Jan 27 2004

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Daniel Rollé A view from... My once shiny, mirror-like appearance is now reduced to a mud-stained spectre of my leather clad self. A thousand marches through dirt and dust have scuffed my material; the rain and snow have made of me a weather beaten rag. My insides fester and rot, my worn material mouldy from the putrid body fluids that have engulfed me so many times. I feel used and dirty, not the once gleaming, proud article of my hopeful past. I have changed, violated by the pain and suffering my colleagues and I endure every day. Hands, cut and scarred, pick me up roughly and fling me across the room. I am ripped open and the being thrusts his foot into me, stretching me and tearing my golden brown stitching. As I am slammed down upon the stone cold dirty floor, arrows of pain sear through my sole. The beating...

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