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Nathan Wischropp Jan 2019
Over the past few years I’ve fallen short of writing but a sprinkle every other blue moon on this delicious cake.
Though I never stopped writing on the scratch paper in my head I would have liked to have printed more often for my inactive fans and those of you who stumbled across my trash bin of crumbled feeling on this site.
This year I will upload WEEKLY so don’t be shy to follow me through this year and keep up with my less than thought out poems and lyrics as well as short stories such as Star Crossed Me.
My deepest thanks from your fellow poet ~Pilgrim
Nathan Wischropp Dec 2018
A short story of star crossed lovers who can’t even touch ones finger tips.
Follow to stay up to date on the latest chapters.
Nathan Wischropp Dec 2018
looking down at that lipstick print you left on that cigarette and what it meant to me
So here’s your crown to the ******* queen of lies letting every ******* guy between your thighs end my life with your eyes like a knife without words I struggle to find the time to think about you when I’ve found someone new.
Working edit 3
  Dec 2018 Nathan Wischropp
i'm entitled to love
so i've been told
but the fate of my heart
looks to be cold
and i'd tell you i love you
but the last time i tried
was all in vain
and i'd rather not cry
so instead i'll kiss you,
wish you goodnight,
pretend that my affection
is not a trick of the light,
and i hope you'll forgive me
sometime soon
because forgiveness is easy
so i've come to assume.
He always said I was a mystery. Like reading a murderous book.

Who is the killer?

Well, it was him. He tore my heart apart with out even knowing he held it in his hands.

I bet he didn't know he was my world. That when he laughed I laughed harder, when he was sad he was a tornado and I was the city.

I held onto his hand like it was hope. The tears in his eyes were just a facade. He was a comedian I was the joke.

But, I still wobble behind you. Hoping you look back.

But, you never did.
Nathan Wischropp Dec 2016
This flower had color and good bloom once and yet death blind to the beauty of all living things even one as vibrant as this has swept over it branching it closer to the ground until it breaks
Nathan Wischropp Nov 2016
Sunlight shining through my curtains like fire on eyelids reaching over this empty bed in which I lay. The smell of fresh coffee fills the intoxicating  smoke filled air I breathe lighting that morning cigarette. Exhale interrupted by a sudden cough followed by a sigh. The clock ticks 6am. I'd rather be asleep.
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