Dear friends,
Pls note the following mail send to a myanmar girl by a guy called himself Ram Sandar.
He is indian guy, claiming himself as a gentle man working for bank business.
How will u feel if you are being sent a mail like this. (esp. for girl)
May I remind U what sort of people is he. His words really don't reflect his education status and so please stay away from him cos his mindset is to do sexual harassment to young people ( esp gals).
This is what he worote on 30-oct-07 to one zoprian girl. I really don't mention this to to U but he is abusing this site for his own sexual interest.
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Dear Sweetie/Cutie,
I am a 30 year old Indian guy with 6ft height and steel athletic body.
I am MBA by education and work for large bank and based in a city of CALCUTTA of India.
I am very honest and straight in life and love to live good life.
I am a fun loving person and wish to meet young beauties like you and make love by various styles.
I am a very good pussy eater and I can finger, lick, eat c**t meat for hours before shooting your sweet pussy many times day.
I will take you heaven while fucking your tight pussy and you will feel so sweet
with my long 8 inch black, fat thick and rough cock. Lets us chat over mail and add me:
ramsundarroy@gmail.com or at ramsundar_roy@hotmail.com

Best,
Ram
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The following is "what he wrote was captured in computer print screen"

Sacrifice


You who talk of peace now

From behind a barricade of guns

The finger on those trigger

Are not yours, they are young ones

The hands you wave are full of veins

Pumping blood in the words you weave

That turn stationary feet to move in tune

When for the battle fields they leave

Their dying hearts had pumped out blood

Broken bodies lying among the stone

The gaping wounds that cried out there

Sometimes theirs sometimes our own.

Now that the guns have grown silent

And the arena has grown cold

Your efforts to make peace at last

Is politically considered so bold

You light candles in the night

In memories of those you didn’t know

And you lay wreathes before upturned guns

Like you’ve done so many times before

Then you give more moving speeches

Of the sacrifices of those who are no more.

But what about all those white mourners

And the darkness in their breasts

Crying before sepia photographs

While the country, in sleep, rests

Your own head now upon your pillow

And your beliefs that now lie secure

Behind guns still held by the young

Like those who went away before

Your candles don’t brighten their lives

As they mourn hugging the bare floor

Nor do the flowers in the wilting wreathes

Bring fragrance to nostrils smelling gore

Waiting faces wet with tears

For those who will come home no more.

Don’t you owe something to them

The living among the dead

To protect your home and heart

They have forfeited their bread

Light candles among those living dead

And brighten up their hopeless lives

Plant flowers of opportunity for them

So that their sacrifice survives

Don’t forget them when you go to sleep

Give them a place in your dreams

They gave you all with patriotism

And swallowed their frustrated screams.

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YeaH...
my eMaiL's bipbaby_06@hotmail.com
take caRe. =)

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