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These puppet string are held by me,
I’d say I’ve lost my grip,
this autopilot hand-fidget has really gone to ****.

I don’t feel the same anymore,
nothing bubbles in my chest,
but who’s to say I cannot feel
if its only feeling is in my head?

Hello, how are you?
I’m doing simple math,
The strings aren’t taut and funny how
every movement is an act.

The doll’s alive, and she does dance
but watch at your discretion,
because if you knew her once before
she isn’t the same person.
apparently last time I tried posting this it glitched out somehow
oof, no more posting on the phone, eh?
CautiousRain Oct 9
Tic-tac-toe
three in a row,
he swings hard,
alarm bells go,
a knife and knife
a circular ring
who's got the guts
to come clean?

Slurry of blows,
slurry of speech,
maybe there's more
to being a leech,
a man made of pride
a man made of sorrow
what's a man to do
when he can no longer borrow?
Time for some rhymes. What happens when you're stuck in a situation that forces you to get in even more trouble?
CautiousRain Sep 27
Cold as ice and cold as sin
a man that lost shouldn't've been
but he played his cards
and he played them right
cause nothing touches a man
cold as ice.
Rambles and rhyming
As ya do
CautiousRain Sep 26
Every time I think of you
I imagine myself transported
to this notion we had of ourselves
together in the woods,
but somehow alone,
and I'd kiss your lips every morning
but it'd be bittersweet,
and I loved bitter so much at the time
that I'd melt anyway
and somehow in the woods,
in this tiny cabin,
you'd be able to hide from all your sins
and maybe you could protect me
from the bears
from the harsh weather
and from you.
my draft folder is so clogged rn
also this is a sad boi hour poem but uhhh good morning anyway
CautiousRain Sep 14
The flesh, the flesh,
it's always the flesh.

I sometimes wish I would have
given up
just to see how much
you'd try to take.
posting my drafts
yikes
CautiousRain Sep 14
It's all too much to handle;
the tangible and intangible
taunt and mock me
and the vibrations of the room shine through
this lowly, softened flesh of mine
as if to punish my existence.
trying to clear out my draft folder some
CautiousRain Sep 14
"It's not love."

Okay, sure,
so suppose I were to concede.
Then you're positing that
more than half the love I've ever received
has always and forever been null.
this has been sitting in my drafts forever
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