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		<title>Manny | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Manny442</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Manny</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>Angel</title>
			<description>Poem i wrote for my great grandma who passed away.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/584327/</link>
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			<title>Three</title>
			<description>I remember in those times of my childhood when I was enough. When being just me was all that mattered before the time of regret, fear, and oppression. When everything was as it should be. In was in those times I truly lived and not just an empty body with a sewn on smile when time passed at a steady..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/583817/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Two</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Every summer since I was seven Ryan and I would spend the summer at my grandmothers. In a way it was like a break for my mother who kept us through the school year. We didn&amp;rsquo;t mind however we spent the su..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/583805/</link>
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		<item>
			<title>One</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; If you asked me about my childhood I couldn&amp;rsquo;t exactly tell you. It comes in bits and pieces, fogged fragments and things I simply can&amp;rsquo;t remember. I grew up in Texas those hot summer nights along wi..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/583804/</link>
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		<item>
			<title>Prologue</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; My mother always told me I was special; not in the get the last cookie or extra allowance kind of way but different. In her eyes I was strange the exact person she hoped i never be.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/545859/</link>
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			<title>N/A yet</title>
			<description>&quot;Yet she never told me it was possible to live when a part of you has already died.&quot;</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/545857/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Mask</title>
			<description>Just a random poem i wrote showing how people hide their true feelings.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/544568/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Journey</title>
			<description>My first poem i ever wrote. Got the inspiration from my beloved mother.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Manny442/544562/</link>
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