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The Guardian Sep 9
Spirit within my spirit reminds me of a place called home.
A place more esthetical and historical than Rome.
I'm staring at a goddess, and her eyes gives me an impression she's seen more than enough
The scars in her wrist told a story that she had it rough.

But then August came
And she re-lived all the horror once more
She aggressively fell on the ground as before
And she was drowning in a pool of her own blood as her screams decorated the floor.

Her silence was golden, only the walls knew of her nakedness
After the dark left and morning came, she wore a mask perfect enough to cover the sadness.

She's stranded in a deserted place
She finds comfort in her own sholders
The warmest place she ever knew changed on her and turned her colder.

Like trees in autumn she's falling apart
She lost everything, and all that's left was a broken heart.

She fell in a trap hiding behind a smile
Deceptive busturd enjoyed dominance, instead he showered her with hurt and punches till she couldn't take no-more. giggles he promised, but instead she cried enough to surpass the Nile.

She had the spirit of a punching bag
Because after all the thrashing and assault, she still had the strength to handle more.
And now she's idle on the floor like before

But unlike before these time she's DEAD
Draw a line when it comes to abuse
The Guardian Aug 2
I gaze at the stars above looking for comfort
I opened my heart, and told the stone beside me all my teething troubles.

In response the stars sent me an angel
Full of comfort she placed her hand on my shoulder, and promised me the stars.
The Guardian Feb 6
She stares at an empty grave with an idea of who would fit best
The Guardian Feb 5
What goes through the mind of a suicide bomber with 10 pounds of C4 wrapped around his consistence??
coincidence or a quest to wipe out the wicked from existence.
The Guardian Oct 2018
Dear Death:
You became a fracture in my bone
I hate you more now, because you took something from me.
Do you really have to be this greedy? We could have come to an arrangement but you took your immoral ways and took them all.
You are like a thorn that keeps shredding my heart into pieces
You like it when I bleed, like a creature in the dark you like me on the edge.
You are a voice in my head that keeps yelling words I can’t pronounce,
You keep speaking a language only you and I understand.
I’m disgusted by you
But most of all I’m humiliated I ever let you close to me
The disguise cloth suits you well; you really got the best of me
You rolled a smile that bought me to ease
You consoled me when I was sad, you told me your teething troubles I told you my deepest secrets.
I trusted you, but you became a fracture in my bone.
You held me to the wall with a folk sharp enough to slice my vanity, I thought you were in performance but you were serious you left me there, you left me hanging.
You are so full of yourself; you didn’t even realize the soreness you left on my concise self.
You are a fracture on my tibia,
You deny me to stroll like a soldier of pride.
You are dirt under my polished nails; the effort was just a waste of time.
You miserable, ungrateful, arrogant, greedy *******
You conveyed darkness and steered it to my direction
I wish you decompose
I wish you get washed off by heavy rains of September and evaporate into thin air
I wish you get shot at a target practice, so I can burn your dead tissue
I hate you
I hate what you made out of me.
The Guardian Oct 2018
I kept hiding in the shade,
Even though I knew I wasn’t afraid.
Walking in the dark end of the lonely street,
Where everything seemed to be under my feet

Suicidal thoughts pouring in my mind,
Hoping a better solution I might find.

I long for an ending, I long for a happily-ever-after,
I long for a smile, I long for a longer laughter.

Is these really how it ends?
Is these my passage way into the badlands?
I hope these doesn't end with a rope around my neck
I hope it doesn't end with a burden around my back  

Suicidal thoughts pouring in my mind,
Hoping a better solution I might find.

"You Know Best What My Punishment Ought To Be
Only-Only-Don't Make It More Than I Can Bear!"
The Guardian Sep 2018
She Cuts Too Deep
Gypsy grant her wish and take her away
She cuts too deep, her riptide veins are dry like Spanish wine

The world brings pain to her shed, she cries too much her salted tears killed her mother's favorite flower.

Her pillow speaks ill of her, she sleeps no more. Her entwined stomach grows lonely, full of rage she eats no more.

She's lost in the dark, lost in the delicate night's of September. Gypsy show her a glimpse of light, show her where words of wisdom are written.

Her eyes are starring at the galaxy from far, she's trapped in the clouds isolated from the treacherous crowds.

She cut's too deep the ground is familiar with the taste of her bone marrow, Azrael sticks around but the pills won't go down fast enough.

Gypsy grant her wish and take her away
Take her to a place of sonnet's, a place of rhythm and rhyme, a place of poet's.
Azrael- The God Of Death
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