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Mar 10 · 160
1938 Jew
not a spec of candour lives on my skin
forced to abandon the truth
so this serpent can protect me from sin

you can call me a blue jay
nature's most gifted liars
but if there cannon nets catch me
shot in the head by men in army attire

life is a game of Russian roulette
i spin the cylinder
and await what's next

My chances are ungenerous
but I already knew
that's the tragedy
of a 1938 Jew
This is basically about how some Jews haded to fake their identity to save themselves but there chances were low of getting away with it
Mar 10 · 731
This terminal disease
attacks and bombards
until my brittle mental state is now in shards

Like a virus it spreads
to the depths of my emotions
so the doors of my vulnerability is now open

At stage 4
my surface is decomposing
after all it's efforts I've now become nothing
Mar 10 · 97
"i can fly"
she cried with joy
as her wings soared through the sky

but this was a dream
she looked amongst the trees
in awe of the birds who danced through the suns beam

"i can fly"
she cried with joy
as her wings soared through the sky

but this wasn't a dream
she looked down to the trees
making her way to the suns beam
Mar 10 · 199
The mind
our youthful wit
so cerebral
guards our consciousness like a sacred
Mar 10 · 454
i wrote your name in silver
but the ink came out red
yet this made me happy
as his favourite colour was red
Mar 10 · 112
revenge of mother nature
when my volcano erupts
you will ignite
ashes to ashes
cremated on sighted

when my glacier melts
you will drown
plunge to the depths of my ocean
36,000 feet down
Mar 10 · 196
my night is unlighted
tho painted with a celestial body
in a blanket of colossal lights
your absence i embody

once a perfect jewel
where you beamed with brilliance
night was a paradise in heaven
blinded by your radiance

but your light expanded
until it ruptured like dynamite
night is now a shadowed hell
without you there's no stars in sight
Mar 9 · 274
anima mea
our antique soul
so veracious
cages our dreams and hidden secrets

our soul's a relic
our incarnation
holds all memories back to when our mother tongue was Thracian

our soul has hyperthymesia
mind of an elephant  
writes our life in lyrics to a string of an instrument
The title is Latin

— The End —