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jon-welch
jon-welch
Welsh 'To be born Welsh is to be born priveleged, not with a silver spoon in your mouth, but music in your blood and poetry in your soul" - Wilfrid Wilson
A darkened scar across my eye a lightning  crack against the sky this morbid creature standing by this place where horror tends to cling What God has cursed you with this frame? your crippled form,  your branches lame but let him speak and he'll proclaim "I'm far more tame in spring"
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
As Seasons Dictate
Every day of his life spent in evasion, watching every move of the nation, In moon glazed eyes, reality sets in, a tricky situation, enter deathly grin, He needs the rush, to cure the burn, He shouts out to the sky, and as he waits, no answers heard, to elevate his mind.. The silence never waits, as the victim never asks, the music of the scdene dies, focus on his mask, the wagering of life, as breath wears thin, no time he can place, where it all begins..
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
The Silence Never Waits..
We welcome the girl, alone it would seem, like a seed in the updraught, whole worlds lie beneath. Here is the girl, A mind pregnant with dreams, as she crosses the bridges, connecting the streams. There lands a girl, ghouls taunt, ghouls tease, "let go of this love, girl, be rid of these dreams." Come see the girl, speaking tounges through machines, white draped over candy, embracing the terminal dream. Heres lies the girl, most wouldn't believe, the ghouls taunts a mere whisper now, dream easy, love freely... my sweet.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
Sweet Seed