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for The Life of Crucibles in the Night

1/26/2005 c1 2via-paperclips
wow. this is amazing."Knowing that his pen wouldn't listen anymore" I would go insane if something I loved some much, the one thing I could turn to and forget everything, suddenly stopped working. It is interesting that suicide is a gift. Pain is only temporary and suicide is a gift, I would have to agree.
7/18/2004 c1 59Spootasia Tomoe
okay- so i know that i've reviewed this before when it was still on fanfiction.net, but i can't seem to find that review in my history page (though i'm not sure that reviews can be lost...) so i'll just have to review it now, instead! ^-^
very sad. a crucible for him, indeed. even for a criminal, such a life seems incredibly harsh. i'm not sure what it is about the story, but it's very easy to connect to the boy (the doyle... *ahem*) and it becomes very easy to realise what he was going through and how it must have been for him. the part of your poem that seems most striking (to me at least...) is:
"His arm would not shed blood
The wound may have gaped
And the flesh have told stories
But not a drop flowed anymore"
i don't know why, but just the fact and/or metaphore that he could no longer bleed, that he was empty, perhaps becoming devoid within... it was the part that gripped me most.
6/12/2004 c1 22Just-try'en-to-speak
O_X Now i know i'm not crazy i read that one before i know cause i remeber i really liked that one it was cool *shakes head* maybe i'm on something X_X

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