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  Oct 2017 Atticus
Jay23
We are intersecting lines.
Not even parallel lines.
Even though singularity exists out of this world.
Parallel lines at least meet at singularity.
  Oct 2017 Atticus
Amanda
If you had chance to change a word
That was spoken in anger or hate
Would you?
If you had chance to go back in time
And change a historic date
Should you?

What if the word was invasion
Given in a speech of war
Should you?
What if the date was August nineteen thirty nine
And a fifty-year old man made hate a law.
Would you?

What if that word could be erased
And a war never begun
Would you?
What if that man could be taught to love, not hate
So that all that came to be, could be undone
Should you?

What if there is a man of power and celebrity.
Who beguiles with speeches of such truth, sincerely spoken
Should You
But power gained the speeches change to anger and mistrust
And hate and fear once again threaten a world being broken.
Would you?

I Would
I Should
Too Late.
Atticus Sep 2017
promises of love
and dediction
we believe we are grown
but inside of us
just under the surface
is a child wanting to be comforted
to be loved
so we hide this part of us
the colours in our mind slowly dying
because they say to keep something maintained you
must nourish it
but the nourishment we need
is rare
and this makes our palettes grey
resorting to unorthodox versions of what we need
crutches and supports
that people refuse to speak about
the childhood friend
that moved away
when you were young
unable to cohere as to why
they couldn't stay
wrapped in the dreamland
of explosive joy
Atticus Sep 2017
i follow the the misty pathway
in the hopes that it will lead me to you
my internal compass
forget true north
it only points to you
a direction i have carved into my mind
like the hearts that teenage lovers
carve into trees
Atticus Sep 2017
mouth open wide

stolen voice

and torched lips
Atticus Sep 2017
the bed feels like an ocean
your body writhes upon it

giant squid tentacles
winding up from the inky depths

locking around your ankle
rendering the limb useless
an anchor in your dreams

dreams of masked figures
with nets bottling your hopes
and dreams

for their own sick pleasures
put on shelves and made
into a roadside freak show

words like venom
and jeering laughter
nigh time dreamers chained in reality

differences scorned upon
physical or mental

cries of upheaval and revolution
from those that are followed by the
black dog

those that are like rag dolls
trapped in the shell that is
their body
unable to lift their heads

the smothering and stifling cloak
of panic worn by those who suffer anxiety

the grey storm cloud of acid rain
and icy bullets
hovering over the depressed

they are not broken
only flawed

in this world
today
no one is without flaws

insecurities and fear
keep our mouths shut
locked with heavy iron padlocks

weighing the wearer down
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