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KC Sep 2020
Peculiar to be
An alternate alter
A thousand known, A thousand beware
Angst
Circumscribe to ye
A thousand dead, A thousand wiser
Another poem I've written last year on the thirtieth of July.
KC Sep 2020
A time wherein
Everything slows but everyone.
Every drop a minute more.
A little less, A little you, that of is time.
Which is gone.
I've wrote this way back, July 31 of last year to be exact.
KC Sep 2020
Pain
is not
inherently concrete,
if unfelt
it is completely abstract
until the wait
is felt
KC Sep 2020
Comfort
within
the shower room
For they enter
to feel
the birth of a butterfly
but instead
they drown of numbness
to stains
that even water could not wash.
KC Sep 2020
Trapped inside concrete
one of your choices were;
a window as big as fifty bananas piled together
connecting yourself to
charms that cut your head from your body
everyone knew this, but
procrastinators like yourself
their head and body stay inside the concrete.
This is the first acrostic , i've written that i'm proud of. I hope you like it!
KC Sep 2020
It is not sunrise
that judges
the morality
of consumption
But the quality of ;
bones that break;
hair that grow;
skin that feel;
and words
nobody spoke of.
KC Sep 2020
It                                           travels
the world
for it
hopes to see                          you
—if it does—
It does
land the skin
of your body,
and runs
until the                               pores
that                                       expose
your                                hy poth ala mus
is found
                                               e at e n.
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