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Misty Meadows May 2016
Honestly,
How could
Honesty
Ever possibly be the best
Policy
When complications
In democracies
Simply prove we disregard
Philosophies.

To disregard all
Philosophies
Is just another form of our
Self-oppression.
****** tongues spill
Atrocities,
And we disguise it as some sort of
Self-expression.

Are we self-expressed
Or are we fraudulent?
I heard that honesty is
All we crave and yearn.

But that's not the case
Because the truth can hurt.
Just watch honesty hit its
Path and burn.

And with the cash we earn
And clean air we kiss,
You would think we all
Are kinda feeling blessed.

We have reckless flesh
And lack small regrets
Yet expect nothing less
Than restful deaths.

And with restful deaths,
We have veins of steel
That are only melted by
The coldest flames.

And like the bread of life,
We do not share a slice,
Even though the end ensures
We give back grains.

So I suppose we're selfish,
In a sense sometimes.
Say, simply
Sincerely
Sinister.

We're here on earth
As just visitors, all
Sealing life with
Cheap signatures.
Misty Meadows May 2016
With dreams like clouds,
Which often drift and
Float,
Everyone confuses my
Thoughts with lethal
Smoke.
Thinking fire and destruction
Is the cause of my
Smiles.
My clouds hover
Above the path of
Tears
For miles.
People think they can read minds
  May 2016 Misty Meadows
GaryFairy
inverted purpose, a hurting version
verses for this urban exertion
first curse, the burdened dispersion
unworthy service of incursion

perverted circus, a working aversion
reversing their verbal coercion
the first thirst is the verse's assertion
immersed in an urgent excursion
I reposted this because i got a message saying that i don't write poetry. They said that poetry is all about metaphors and imagery. Well, for me it is about emotion, rhymes, and wordplay. Also, alliterations have been done over and over, but not inner alliteration. Here, i worked with the "er" sound.
Misty Meadows May 2016
Who knows what this will do
To us.
Constructing walls of destructive
Trust.
Glass may break but can never
Rust.
Even the sun wants the lust of
Dusk.

Who knows what this will do
To you.
If grass is green and skies are
Blue--
Roses red and blood is too.
Love is blind, obscure my view.

Who knows what this will do
To me.
Mistakes so sweet be bruising me.
I fell so hard I'm losing sleep.
Can't dream, I count elusive sheep.

Who knows what this will do
To us.
Wiping tears with ruthless
Love.
Tending wounds with useless
Dust.
Impatiently waiting, but never
Rushed.
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