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 Nov 2020 Samual Hidden
ruyol
he lit his cigarette and walked away
and that’s when i knew i no longer wanna stay
3% —
Nice talking with you today!
2% —
Seems like we had a productive…
1% —
So let’s meet —

Conversations interrupted
plans unfinished
before the
screen —

The clock running
down, just a
bit too —

Chargers lost
messes of
cables

the rush

—charging—
Tiny cheesecake
You are such a delight
A tiny morsel
Three bites all mine
Once I find that pesky fork of mine
Favorite poem for my favorite food.. cheesecake
Stop...

And go back, to the moment where time wound forward.
Where fallen leaves return to trees and my broken mind becomes mended.

Go back...

To the days where fear would cower and invincibility possessed the throne of thought
Where youth prevailed.

Rewind...
To the time where the dependence of three legs buckles under the independence of two
Where first words formed replace last words spoken.


Come back...
To the world where leaves have fallen,
Where color has taken its own and has bled into grey.
where youth has betrayed us and old age has greeted.
To the days where the purpose of bone has been replaced by the stability of wood.

The monitor has changed its tempo...
I lay here as breath begins to fade and memories of lost faces gather.
I stop for the last time
To imagine a world where the reality of growing old surrenders to the dream of growing young...
My second poem again let me know what you guys think!
I may be sorry
And I cannot grieve
I cannot let out the anger I breath
So please don’t leave
I’m sorry I’m broken
I’m sorry I’m dead
I’m sorry I broke your heart
But…
Now my heart is dead
 Nov 2020 Samual Hidden
cyrene
.
 Nov 2020 Samual Hidden
cyrene
.
let me show you what a shadow feels like.

blank, dark, unnoticed.

i am my own shadow, in the light.
This is very random.
Once I was a king loathed by my kingdom.
I was a machine built from the toughest iron nothing could break through.
I left my emotions to rust in the rain and murdered them in the cold night.
But I let my ego hold my strings and now I can't even treat a human right.
I meet a manic on the south side of town.
With a cane in hand and his mind locked in a birdcage since the war.
He was a maniac for trusting me and loving me and all my iron core.
I don't believe his tales for,
he is dead on the inside.
Departed from his heart,
He says he feels more alive this way.
With a cigarette in my hand, I hope for his life to never feel alone again.
Sherlock BBC
Sherlock/John
2013
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