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Sometimes Starr Feb 2024
You were never very good
At guitar
Sometimes Starr Feb 2024
Absurdity complex,
The melting distractions,
The value of poetry.

A man calls himself to tell himself he is confused,
And unsure why he is calling himself.

Someone is on a pedestal,
Another one is ground beneath the iron wheels of fate.

No one did anything wrong,
But we gasp and shake our heads at the news.

Except we all did something wrong,
And someone's gotta pay for it.

I guess I chose sin for myself,
But that doesn't make any sense.

I guess it's time to be uncertain.
Sometimes Starr Jan 2024
My poetry feels dull and lifeless

I cant write better than my own death
How do I compete?
Sometimes Starr Jan 2024
And he whittles his stick
And it whittles him back
They've done it before
But they're glad to be back
He's fletching an arrow
He's making a bow
It feels a bit different from decades ago,

But he has the Wind
Like never before
Sometimes Starr Jan 2024
If you
Were dead-set on collapsing
It's just something that happens

This won't be easy and it's
Gonna take some time

And let the poison pass by

Because God knows there's enough up above
And inside me
Inside you is the sky
Sometimes Starr Jan 2024
What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.

Absurdity flies in the face of dignity
And wrinkles its red nose before the break.

I'll never understand the warring factions or their fame.

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.

If we suspend two versions of the truth,
Calamity will mark the store of grace.

If nobody is wrong
Where souls don't get along

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain

What's wrong with you is wrong

What's wrong with you is with

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.
Sometimes Starr Dec 2023
You could take me down for my lack of culture,
I haven't read,
I'm not practiced or professional enough,
I'm just such an ogre.

But baby, I'm the reason for the season.

You don't get Marx without me.

You don't get Sartre without me.

And you don't get paid without me, babycakes. Hah.

Maybe I should have done some things differently here or there, but there's really no metric to judge that notion against so we're kind of mucked on that front.

However suffering, like everything else, has to have a shape and a color to it. The fallout of my love is going to find its way into my senses and to the middle of my brain whether I like it or not. You could say it builds character, but I think it just destroys it.

Remember that I write, girl. I don't really read all that much.

I am the man who reads the burning book.

Stop looking at me funny.
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