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wolf-gang
wolf-gang
She stands out at the sea's shore. where water eddies and torrents, and farther than can be seen for she can feel the deadly currents. Clouds gather above her head, and water rains, striking the sand. Though can't pull her to the seabed, lessens her grip upon the land. She remembers how it felt then to be truly lost out in the seas tossed around and shaken; sunk. Struggling, reaching, just to breathe The light around starts to fade, it must be reaching day's end. pressure builds in her chest, just needs to cry again. She'll leave thereafter; right after resting a short while. She feels the sand again, and there she stays awhile.
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC
The mind
Sometimes when I've been talking I realize my ignorance is showing all of the things I've been saying indicate my meager realm of knowing Why can't I just know everything and be perfect I feel like that would be cool
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Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
i feel so inept
My thoughts are sporadic scrambled messy things Mischievous and sick flapping broken wings Darting to and fro scurry for the dark hiding in my shadow before I can remark to try and save her, him, them, they, or me, all are hurt when they occur, my thoughts that is, you see They jump to fast to see from topic start to end searching for the sad me the me that's not your friend, and when they tell me what to do and when they tell me what to think I'm terrified not even you, could save me from the brink Yeah, my thoughts do really stink and it's hard to clip their wings, But then sometimes when I think something beautiful they'll bring
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May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
Thoughts
I never felt so dead and alone As woods were bare and birds had flown, Hate filled this sweet and quiet eye As I stare this anger towards the sky, I dream the hour of death draws near But childrens laughter rings my ear, Hope starts blooming in my heart So I'll look to heaven as I depart...
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May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
The Dying Year
A horrible contraption made of Billions of moving pieces Made for cruelty and fear and other awful reasons With gnashing teeth like razor blades and finger nails like fish hooks To trap you deep within yourself and scar your lovely looks With eyes you can't avoid and a voice that claims your mind You can't escape this demon like a twisted fatal bind You tell yourself it isn't real it doesn't dictate who you are but even in these times of peace it remains your deepest scar And even with the love you need to get you through the year you can't destroy your demon You can't end all your fear This awful endless feeling that remains always unforeseen must be some crazy apparatus some kind of Fear Machine
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
The Fear Machine