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perpetual-wanderer
perpetual-wanderer
Paradise
‘Look around, Where are you?’ I can’t remember, I ran too far away In hope of something true This place It is bright It is calm, it is comfort It panders to those in plight I shall stay here For a while, maybe evermore I am now new Purity to adore The sun sets I remember in pain And go back to reality Home again
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
Run
There once lived a girl who liked to drift away Sail through the winds, the seas, the land Weightless, as light as sand An escape from everyday There once lived a girl whose favourite drift of all Was manned by that as sharp as a knife As brutal as my life In skin it made neat scrawls There once lived a girl who could make wounds speak How they screamed and shouted and wailed And rebuked her for having failed At not giving in to weak There one lived a girl who asked the stars stop Cease to twinkle and stare to sigh Look in pity, helpless up high Her eyes up, only to drop There once lived a girl so broken yet so whole Shattered hope, built-in dreams Tear of the heart, flowing streams An abyss, an endless soul There once lived a girl who stood confused Love for pain, pain for truth Life for lesson, lesson for youth Dilemmas that were gifts to the bruised But, there once lived a girl who stood still The blood flowing down clotted A glimmering hope spotted Changed the ‘can’ to ‘will’ So, ‘girl who once lived’ Wasn't it your dream To fly one day? To swim one day? To run one day? Wasn't it your wish To breathe one day? To leave one day? To live one day? Well, guess what? You have.
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
Once
I, who have yet to see all Stand in awe of peace, of tranquillity I, who have not found my dreams, Stand in hope of peace, of tranquillity I, who have not loved my life, Stand in wait of peace, of tranquillity I, who have but wandered endlessly, Stand here, in resolute quest of Ataraxia
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
New Word
The mirror hangs on the walls of hope Hope of a pretty face Hope of a mask that hides the truth A picture of perfect grace But the mirror does naught but show true skin A pimple here, a scar there It is us who try to obscure our flaws And build a sheath of beauty so fair Some trust the mirror to trust themselves When they say that they hold no lies But what can mere countenance prove? The vanity of pride, or the betrayal of guise? Alas! The mirror shows only a face The glow of a soul it sweetly hides Our reflection is what our faces say Not the true beauty of our inside
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:17 AM UTC
Mirror, mirror