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Someone_
Someone_
17/M/Montreal I'm no one special. I'm no one important, or admirable, or genius, or fantastic. But I'm not no one. I'm me, here, now. And so are you.
The piercing thrum Of life begun A song that doesn’t cease Irregular strums Of hearts undone Heavy cries released The battering drums Of those unsung Will never be appeased I sang for some Their bleak souls wrung By what my voice would tease A hopeful hum Bright as the sun A chant that promised peace I cried for none For I was one Whose song was one that ceased Now hums and strums And thrums are done All sound is now deceased Mother to violence Widowing silence And no one left to speak
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Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC
Sound
“You mean nothing to me.” The words escaped her mouth, her tone giddy As her eyes sparkled the light of the city A girl seeking fun Where there was none Her motives deformed by courtesy and hesitation His own tough truth forgotten, lost in adoration He loved her For lack of a better word His love was a mask to conceal his lust His love was a way to withhold his trust For he knew From the moment she kissed him That she had lost his trust before she ever got it Which made her subtle rejection all the more anticipated
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Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
Incomplete and Complicated
Endless ashes scattered amidst ballistic rain Coating disaster in a sheet of pale rebirth Disturbed by Death’s stroll, doctor among the insane Hiding its grim smile, brittle bones shaking with mirth
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Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 8:52 PM UTC
Death
My greatest sin of all Was to watch you shamelessly call To those against whom you stood tall And do nothing as I watched you fall Into the depths of corruption and pain Where one is soiled by the drops of rain As they deform you, to become but a stain In this world of the dead, of the gruesomely slain At this point, I wish not to repent I simply want to embrace my hellish descent Because if you are a stain, then I am a dent But I have a message that I wish to be sent To the world, as a parting gift; "Now that your saviours are rotting adrift, Your towers will burn, and your houses will rift And you will receive a death that is swift."
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Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
Forgive me, Father