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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=487794" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fictional</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">everything i write comes back to me<br>like they are real<br>in flesh and blood and friends write<br>how come<br>how is it that we are there in your poems<br>when they are supposedly <br>some works of a writer<br>imaginary and fictional</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i have no answer</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i write about love and broken hearts<br>and another friend<br>emails if i am alright<br>is there anything she can do to help? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">but i say again</div><div style="margin:10px 0">this is not me this has nothing to do with me<br>this is fiction</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and she does not believe me<br>she says, <br>there you are trying to lie again<br>when blood runs surging like some pulse<br>of a dying man wanting to be alive<br>in your poetry, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">i have no answer</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the poems are works of fiction<br>it is not me it is about him and her and them</div><div style="margin:10px 0">she shrugs off her shoulders<br>and reads again about the old church where<br>she once knelt and prayed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there was this girl who fell in love<br>and whose heart was <br>beautifully torn to pieces</div><div style="margin:10px 0">she says she is her<br>the poem is true</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and there was this boy<br>who was with her praying<br>who, when he became a man<br>broke her heart</div><div style="margin:10px 0">she says it is you it is you<br>the poem is true, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the poems are true<br>who will ever believe me now? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">i have always lied all along<br>count it from the first poem<br>when i said about</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it and i said it was<br>it is </div><div style="margin:10px 0">all about nothing and<br> it will always be about nothing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but fiction, nothing personal, but it can be also painful and lingering.....</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=487794" data-title="Fictional de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="everything i write comes back to me
like they are real
in flesh and blood and friends write
how come
how is it that we are there in your poems
when they are supposedly 
some works of a writer
imaginary and fictional

i have no answer

i write abou..."></div>
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