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 Apr 2020 Yonnick August
Flynn
See
 Apr 2020 Yonnick August
Flynn
See
Some say sad eyes
which they surmise
must have arised
and been incised
by pain

Some say kind eyes
I prefer what this implies
Yet it still decries
What's inside
Yet again

I'm sure they may both be right...
But these are the eyes
I cannot disguise
These are the eyes
In which my soul is contained

So please don't see wise
To see them and apprise
me of my character, and theorise
on what underlies
For it is inane

If the judgement is a guise
and simply improvised
A means to advertise
interest or curiosity, replies
you can ascertain

if conversation you catalyse
conducive to exorcise
unjust judgements implied
by what you have spied (it wasn't just my eyes)
and arraigned...
I have been prejudged a lot before and it feels like everyone sees something different... I take issue with this culture.
Read the book not the cover
 Apr 2020 Yonnick August
Ruheen
Castles are only walls
made to look pretty.
Kingdoms can only fall
because they aren't that pretty.
You treasure decorations
over things that
do their job.
Because
they are disposable
and beauty
is not.
...
 Apr 2020 Yonnick August
Reappak
Sometimes I wish to ask the moon
Why always it glooms
Has it ever smiled?
Or is it too the lonely child
Depressed inside, but seemingly wild!
I hope you know what I meant by the lonely child😰
The dreams of others feed my contempt
Hope strings to unfulfilled fantasies of everyone but myself

All my dreams have come true
I have all that I wanted but being content is more harmful and dauntless

Thrown to the dust and walked all over
I claim I was hurt by the lies, heartbroken

Reality is, I was scared of consistence
No grip on my new-found placid content
My love grew too strong for my mind to control it

So I gave it up for the loss and full moments
His stories and dreams all wore, once mine
I threw Them away and always wanting more
 Jan 2019 Yonnick August
Sin
Who cries for the little children
When pain and hurt fall upon
The little hearts of purest love
From the hands of the cruel and sick

Who cries for the little children
Locked up and fed a fist
Thrown around the floor like dust
No meals or drink no more

Who cries for the little children
When their voices are so mute
The only thing they know right now
Is life must be extinct

So let them fall into the arms
Of hearts that truly love
In sleep forever they rest now
And tears shall fall no more
 Dec 2018 Yonnick August
Jenny
Noir
 Dec 2018 Yonnick August
Jenny
the electricity runs through our veins
and past the street signs we rumble by
in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit,
the roof of the car is the noir sky above
and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces
the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips
the sound of the sky collapsing
echoes the flashes that streak the sky,
the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness
(as if god were wearing light up sketchers)
the lacy brallette that wears me
gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car
the velvet pants that ripple with the wind
drink up the nighttime rain
and the rare headlights race past us,
heading into homes and hearts
the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts
so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity
the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes
now streams down my face.
on a two way street,
we drive down the middle
unafraid in the face of direct dangers
so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers
and instead highly exhilarated
from the street signs we drive by
too fast to read the blocky lettering
the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them
the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window,
still smothering slightly.
i can still taste the smoke on your lips
and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear
and as the wind objects and inhales
unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip
the tunnel rushes towards us,
and we both hold our breaths,
as if breathing would contaminate us.
the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow
and for once, i see you for who you are
a boy too buzzed to feel
a kid who only felt "sort of"
a person who couldn't heal
and a lover who could never give love
about a boy who was my living teenage dream // nothing scarier than finding a broken loveless boy who makes you the same

— The End —