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When did this sadness become so much bigger?
Something with sharp tooth and malicious jaw,
Biting as though nothing were even there.

To be truthful,
Sometimes I toss my heart away, like garbage.
Even though, I know it's all I've got.

For there's this thing inside me,
And it is something more than sadness.
Who
Each poem I write is written.
Yes they know, that's very good.
Each poem by a different person.
Don't think that was understood.

With a unique mask
I'll hide behind
This same body
But a different mind
Love is
Like a sharp twinkling crystal
Beautiful in its aspects
And wondrous to consider

But it's a funny thing holding on to and the brighter it gets the tighter you'll want your grip

And you may bleed
If the edges cut too deep
And then you might drop it
Shattering on the floor

Even in shards and pieces
It still twinkles
But not the same
The inner poet

Some ******* cliche poem about love that didn't work out. Yeah yeah, we've heard this song before. And we've gone through the gauntlet of emotion that is love with words more elegantly written than this.
You're only as good as your last thought
your last word
seconds going by
there is no past or future

An atoms existence
on a ball of dust
this next move is a must
do or die or go bust
stop feeling lust
for the past
or pains for the future

Take this present
put every cell in the moment
that's who you are
and you'll be gone in a second.
quick poem
*******,
you cookie-cutter *******
Fur of bat
toad-like grin
eyes of lazy gold
green in sin

Sitting on the edge of forever
croaking sweet lullabies
a tendril tongue spanning galaxies
devouring worlds like tiny flies

A slothful gluttony so boundless
a privilege to slip down his amphibian throat
let's spend eternity inside him
together churning, wailing, floating in the acid moat
Mis
Life's just one big long misconception when you think about it
I highly doubt anyone really knows what's going on
They'll tell you they do
They'll nod persistently
Glowing faces
The fools

Yes I saw the fools
The cherries waiting to be picked in the field
Hypocrites with blank stares to the sky
Couldn't even point a star out past a cloud
What a joke
I highly doubt that anyone knows
With so many misconceptions flying high
Like frispies and greeding dogs
Weeding bark bark

And yet we keep rowing these oars to a shore no one knows
What a joke our race is
Honestly
And yet what else is there
Do we know?
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