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Everybody goes away
Everybody goes away
You might go on home
But you're gonna find
Everyone goes away some day

The parents of parents, they went away
Parents, they go away, far to soon
Children, too, they go away

Everybody goes away one day

When you're caught in the middle
It might seem like forever
Always thought I'd be immortal
Now I know my foot is on time's throttle

It might be cruel, it might be unkind
It might be a blessing in disguise
It might even drive you
straight out of your mind
It's going to change your life forever

Just like all those people in any 1950's movie

Everybody goes away
Goes away some day

Maybe that's tomorrow
Today is already becoming yesterday
The only thing for certain
I've already paid my taxes

Everybody goes their way
Everybody goes away some day
Everybody goes away one day.
Searching through my mind
for anything I fear to say.
I have spent thirty-five years
of my life tracking down
my fears,
cornering the slippery ones
and facing the fearsome feral ones.
The few secrets I keep
are no longer for my sake,
but are kept to spare others.
Even those,
I have aired to a few,
close and close-mouthed friends
who hold my trust
as sacred as I hold theirs.
To keep what
hard-earned sanity I have,
I need to keep facing myself,
and stare the evil within me
square in the eyes.

The thing I fear most today
is my arrogance...
my arrogance that there is nothing left to fear.
"Tonight,
I heal like splintered bone,
growing strong in the broken places."
- B.G. McCann, "Warehouse"

NaPoWriMo day9 - write a poem with a line you fear to write.
i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.
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