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because being
safe is necessary
to survive
in a world
like this;
Yesterday's
 May 2016 Oskar Erikson
Sari Sups
does not make them miss you back.
short but true
In the past
I would take a razor
to my skin

but now
I take a cigarette
to my lips

and I don't know
which is worse because both
remind me of the life
im suffocating
Stunned silent, with a black hole ******* out the air from my lungs.
Left in a daze, screeching tires and the
rumble of an unsympathetic engine.

It had been a year, but it felt like a universe could have been born
and destroyed in the time you were gone;
A year spent glancing into rooms and tiptoeing around crowds
expecting to see the glimmer of gold,
but being greeted by a hollow reflection,
lost, looking for Home.
Did you know that i've been waiting for you?

Stuck in a tenth circle of hell
where people who love who they shouldn't
bleed sure streams of red to write letters that will never be sent
after the ink bottle has been emptied.

The lonely bench, the empty rooms.
Do you even remember how it felt
when you would look into my eyes and smile that clueless smile?
I sure as hell do.
Why? Why do we let ourselves get attached?
When we so plainly know it is never going to end well
The amount of times we have to say bye has no end
Why can't life be full of life and swell?

Why do we have to go through all these tough moments?
To learn a lesson?
Whats the lesson in death? That it's near? That we only live once?
I was a mother and he was my son

It's not easy being there for a living creature
Expecting, hoping for it to have the best in this life
You know, subconsciously you know that it's run out of time with no cure
And you try and try, but nothing helps and all you are left with is grief

So called God is supposed to be the good guy
But what is the sense in creating life if all he does is take it back
These things is what makes me question the reality of this guy
Is he real? Because I see no proof of him
 May 2016 Oskar Erikson
Ben Jones
'Tis a dry kind of land
Said the cactus to the sand
In the light of noon his prickles were a’glistening
But no answer returned
And the cactus duly learned
That the sand was only any good for listening
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