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  Nov 2017 Ace Sargent
Venus in Scorpio
You don't just see a girl

And then grab her head and kiss her to death

It really doesn't work like that

So why do I

In me feel so strongly

When I see a beautiful girl sit across from me

She matches my ideals

And so I project my fantasies onto her

It's so stupid because

I really am capable of love

Why is it the only thing I think about

Love

A union of souls

Two hands clenched

A heart strapped in tight

For the long ride of this life

I sit here alone

Looking at myself from all angles

I see depression

Passion

Hope

Fear

Guilt

Ambition

Intense power and vitality

All submerged, sublimated by desire

The only thing I want

I guess I can't have right now


I'm stuck



In a life



That I am too sensitive to endure



Heartbreaks at the sound of her footsteps leaving the room

Lost my chance to make an impression

Another one that got away

What do I say to her

Nothing

Because I'm too scared

I've been like this since I could remember

And I guess there's nothing wrong

We all have our things

But me as in love as I am with beauty

I'm also terribly frightened by it

It holds a tremendous power over me

That I cannot bear to confront

I want to say

God your eyes are as magnificent as the sunrise,

She will scurry off and I will look a fool

Am I depressed when I start writing

What's stopping me from having the life that I want

Time

Time keeps me here

On this train

Alone

On my way home to a place where I'm safe

Ten years from now I'll be thinking about now remembering my
ignorance

Feeling enlightened

My life right now is a mixture of too many emotions

Intense fear and crushing optimism

Now I said it was a mixture but not a very good one

Like oil and water

Fire and air

But I guess they need each other

And what do I need now

To focus

To be productive

To make my uncle proud

Or do I need some life breathed into me

Where is it to be found

Why can't I be my own life

Gosh after all this it sounds pointless

But still, I'm amazed

I know life is a beautiful thing

as I tap those words I'm reminded and my heart bursts

So what is wrong then, why aren't I happy?

Where did I go wrong

I guess I'm on the right track to my dreams it's just going to
take time

But what is this really about?

Just because you don't have a Ma

You feel isolated and alone way too often

Yet you long for companionship

Yeah I guess that's it, that's why I'm sad

And what is there to do about that besides keep living my life with
my head high in hopes that one will cross my path

If I were writing a love story that would make sense

but this is real life

and I don't talk to strangers

Nor do they talk to me
Ace Sargent Oct 2017
In the case of the 8-year-old little boy
The child who said he wanted to see
I am sorry I could not stop you, angel
From becoming part of this machine
To pull you from those cogs and screws
And cover your innocent ears
From the churning and turning of politics
Of old white men’s right-wing fears
In the case of the 8-year-old little boy
I know you want to fix the worlds scrapes
But the earth is not like your boo boo
And mommy’s desk doesn’t have enough tape
I am sorry I could not stop them, baby
From taking away your dreams
They would not listen to my screaming
They couldn’t hear mommy over the machine
In the case of the 8-year-old little boy
Don’t let that light die in your eyes    
I know the world can be a bully
But there was a time so was your mind  
I am sorry I could not stop them, sweetie
From saying all those bad things
An 8-year-old shouldn’t be hearing how
The government tears off angel wings.
for the raising of little ones
Ace Sargent Jun 2017
My fear is like a worn blanket;
it keeps me bundled safe from cold,
Protects me from intruding talons
that reach to break frail bones.

Its edges are torn and tattered;
Hairy strings scratch at my throat.
I sometimes hold it all too tightly
and it wraps around my soul.

It sees that scary people scare me,
and knows that everyone is scary.
But this blanket isn’t just a haven,
the people claim it “unhealthy”.

They tear at fraying threads and seams
and I screech for them to stop.
It’s so comfortable and warm in here,
and it very rarely gets too hot.

I’ve grown accustomed to its feeling,
but the mad people do not care.
They tell me “Be more social.
The world shouldn’t scare you dear.”

But this itchy blanket shields my body
when people venture far too close.
When they try to shove ideals and dreams,
down an already suffocating throat.

Why can’t the scary people see
That this blanket is home, is mine?
They cause the frightful disrupt.
They make the blanket make me blind.
new work! please feel free to leave advice on editing!
Ace Sargent Mar 2017
We are not our bodies
despite our bodies being us.
We know the large grand heavens
and our bodies know dirt earth.

As bodies can not hot hold us,
the souls we are will cry.
The mind we hold is different,
but together we are alive

Think it through, i plead to you,
we are not our minds.
They function as a separate being
you just have to see the signs.

Kneel and pray to the lord, sweet child
that you will one day see.
Your soul is stuck, trapped even,
within this monster being.

Because it can't be us
and we can not be it,
it pushes in so harshly
that it tears apart our spirit
Ace Sargent Mar 2017
Scared minds write the loudest and speak the least
they shut bloodshot eyes when the pen hits ink
thoughts from the poets with anxiety
Ace Sargent Jan 2017
Cross our heart and hope to die,
we will stick these needles in our eyes.
Create an earth with threads and pin,
visions dance through blood and pain.
Design this world my darling boy,
cut the cloth and make these toys.
Little humans and tiny bones,
malleable limbs and shiny thrones.
Make them selfish, make them cruel,
but none shall lie, not under your rule.
So as your blood makes rivers flow,
I suggest you learn to tightly sew.
For faulty words and drifter’s thoughts,
are something not all humans fought.
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