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brandi-h
American I am seventeen years old. I like to write poetry about anything that inspires me. Unfortunately I am very prone to writer's block.
She stares at me with those piercing eyes. They break down my armor full of lies. Can I recover from a spiritual demise? Does she know I try? Will she hear my cries? Sometimes I wonder if she even cares, But I just call and I know she's there. Save me, save me! my little white dove. Save me, save me! from what I've done. I try to please her, but I only let her down. I need to turn my life all around. My mind screams; My mouth makes not a sound. Will I always be hatred bound? Then I see her with hair so fair, A life so pure it makes me gasp for air. Save me, save me! my little white dove. Save me, save me! from what I've done. Have I gone too far to come back home? Will I be with you or be all alone? From a fiery outpost will I be ****** Or will I look down from a higher throne? A harsh reality will I be spared, Devoid of love, hurt, and long-term care? May I be given a life that's fair? Give me adventure; give me my share! How much more can my facade rust? How much longer until I combust? The life I've held is full of mistrust. Free me from the temptation of lust. If dove knew, it'd giver her a heart a scare. It would be too much for her to bare. Save me, save me! creator above. Save me, save me! from what I've become.
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Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 1:35 PM UTC
Innocent's Demise