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Sometimes we dig graves for ourselves
Then we cry wolf when they start swallowing us
Time and time again we go back there
Infact we don't even make any effort to stay away
We make merriment, ululations and joyful noises
We dance and celebrate by the graveside at all hours of the day
Then we cry wolf when it swallows us
Deliberate recklessness
The stench of death we ignore
The warning signs blaring
The signals loud and deafening
We eat, drink and make
Merry at the graveside
Without a care in the world
What consequences?
So you call him 'Prince'
I don't castigate you at all
He treats you like royalty
It's just the beginning,
I know
The inception of your relationship
The honeymoon phase
I presume
You can't believe your luck
You're in pure bliss
I see
Flowers, chocolates and sweet nothings
It is surreal
Enjoy it while it lasts
Soon he will be tired of being
Who he isn't
The shoes will be too tight
There won't be any more pretending

By and by
The animal will replace the gentleman
Slowly but surely
He will break you down with his insults
He will beat you up with his fists


One of these not-so fine days
Love will turn to loathe
Your palace will turn into a prison
The Prince will turn to a Villain
Jealousy you may say
Prophet of Doom you may label me
Forerunner is more appropriate
Consider yourself
FOREWARNED!
To the woman he's loving now
 Sep 2016
Arlo Disarray
I just want to take a moment here again to thank you all for following my work and growth throughout this journey.

As a creative person and an artist, I get depressed and overwhelmed a lot of the time. I get so many ideas in my head, sticking there like velcro, and poking the inside of my brain until I let them out.

I'm constantly drowning in thoughts and ideas. I try to doggy paddle across the waves, but sometimes they pull me under and I can't breathe for a while.

My art helps heal me, but it also destroys me. I take one step forward, two steps back. And some days, I look at everything I've created and I cry. I cry because I hate it. I cry because I love it so much that I hate it. And that might not make sense to you, but it's how I feel.

Creating and writing helps to get all of the bad thoughts out. But every so often, I just feel lost. Like I'm floating here without purpose, just dangling in the wind and being tangled deeper and deeper into myself.

Some days, I want to call it quits. I want to throw it all away, and say goodbye to everything I've created. Some days I crave to be "normal" and accepted among the majority.

I'm sorry for rambling on, but allow me to come to my point:
You guys keep me going. Your support and interest in my work makes me feel like I have a reason to be here. It gives me back my sense of purpose. And I'm so thankful that so many wonderful people have been following my work. It's an honor to create for you, truly.

Thank you.

-Arlo
 Sep 2016
Little Bear
and that is why
i love you
because i feel
your gentle spirit
in between
each pause
for breath
i feel
your kindness
seep
through my pores
and find
it's home
under my
skin
and i know
in my
heart
you are pure
golden light
and i will stand firm  
beside you
with pride
by virtue of
your kindness
your want
for peace
your love
for those
lowly
and lost
 Sep 2016
Little Bear
I don't think
there was any other
way
to have described
him
I could have
compared him
to the heavens
above
And to the stars
in the night sky
To joy
To love
and beautiful
blessings bestowed
But
he
Gave me
peace
deep
within in my bones
and a belonging
holding softly
to my heart
And so
i find
the only
way
I could have
described
him
was to call him
*home
 Aug 2016
Little Bear
i sleep with the lights on
not because i am afraid of the dark
but because
what lingers in the dark
is afraid of the light
 Aug 2016
anu
A friend is need
Not only in deed
But who stand as seed
To feed
All you need !!
Proud to be a friend !!
Happy friendship day to all my poet friends.
 Aug 2016
ThePoet
The words will come
when you're sound asleep
And you've lost it all
and have nothing to keep

When your mind is shallow
and your pain is deep
And your eyes resemble
the clouds that weep

The words will come...

©
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