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Undead Nomad Dec 2019
Today I conclude
the last chapter of my life
but certainly not the final.
And for a moment
the world stood idle...

Contemplating my new future,
I cross the horizon
where retrospect inspires
forward-looking optimism.

My perspective has changed,
tweaked by others' aspirations.
Something grew inside me
by deep introspections
and as the clock ticked further
my resolve became firmer.

It tickles my soul
at how silly it seems
that I was once just
a clueless little seed.
But now I am planted
in the soil of my dreams,
ready to take root
and spring up with the reeds.

My doubts begin to wan
as I rise with a new dawn.
I pause to tell myself
I've no sins to absolve,
I must believe it to be true
to affirm my resolve.
Was a poem written for a new year's contest a long time ago. I thought it would be befitting to dust it off considering how close the new year is now
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
you are a blood stain on my conscience
I cannot clean you out of my head
I have washed this mind
a thousand times

and now the water is dirtied with red
sullied with residue
from the tides of time
covering my thoughts with merlot grime

every passion
every pain
rubbed into my grain
adhering to me like glue to dirt
I had picked at the scars until they hurt
all the while chanting
cursing your name
murmuring
praying to overwrite these thoughts
begging to be brainwashed
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
I've been in the rain
I've given others my time
time lost to the chance that being in the open would make me feel as so
would tan my pale demeanor
give my loneliness something to hold
turn my fear to boon

I now hold that that is not the case
for true nature is always an honest monster
how could I be so naive?
was it not the cruel world's air that sent me into hiding?

I should return to my dark comfort
my cave of paranoia
the only friend that always welcomes me
understands my need to be alone
to be fragile in a safe cell
guarded, protected
a perfect excuse
my reason to be recluse
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
thrown to the wolves
in the forrest of thorns
they suffered me
grinding teeth along horns
preparing me
speaking in rhyme
"the feast is upon us
so open your mind wide
you've got no soul left to hide"

a secular cage of hell
burning bars of the felled
leftovers from torture
faith in ultimate fate
into which I eliminate
out of which I cannot escape

any meaning
a yolk to me
a burden to you
any purpose
an illness for me
a disease to you

suffocating
held at the throat
a bloodshot glance upon my eyes
as my love is purged like sin
only whispers reproach
in defensive nature
before I could speak

stone words block my path
words against which I reflect
stumbling in retreat
I run into my pride
my faults chained to my feet

now reaching for peace
preaching for survival
none should be exempt from wrath
a science of certain revival
ultimate God
for which we will fall far from grace
faces planted in filthy disgrace
wrapped in his cold embrace
for now we walk at Death's pace
I have a fear of death that prompts me to write about it a lot. This is one such poem about it.
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
I dreamt for this winter's end
to evaporate the heavy veil of dark noons draped over the horizon
and peak me a glance of
lemonade sky
purple aether
and cotton candy clouds
from days past

until then I burrow into myself
into the rabbit hole
that leads deeper within

reminisce of the touch
of that warm glow
one the sun had placed there long ago
a subtle yet permanent remnant of old
as precious as gold
it carries me far from what I suppose
away from this sullen body
holding a heart frozen from the cold
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
Tonight I ponder purpose,
a reason for existance,
the force to my resistance,
and food for my superstitions.

What am I, a producer or consumer?
who am I, the savior or the ender?

I live to wonder why and how to compromise these feelings
deep inside this organic device.

Icll pay the price to my destiny lender
while waiting still for my untimely surrender but first a question to the future:

where is your expectation
under examination?
I need some inclination,
a simple indication,
perspiration of inspiration.

The sun could shine through
yet my space is always shaded.
I'll try to block my eyes
to the half that's always jaded;
make tribulations no longer be berated.

Someone give me the weight
I've waited to feel for so long
because my body aches
for a chance to grow strong.
Meh... I realize this one seems unfinished (it is) but I don't have anything else to add.
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