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/_\
I used to draw on my arm all the time
Nothing big or elaborate
Just a triangle
One triangle
Then I wouldn’t hear the end of it
Everyone complaining
Ink poisoning
Future punk
What’s next, a motorcycle?
So I stopped
I stopped drawing that little triangle on my wrist
Right above my pulse point
But with it
I
Stopped
L I v I n g.
A triangle was supposed to be the strongest shape
It was supposed to make me strong
But I wasn’t even strong enough
To let it stay
Just a small note I didn’t think would be obvious if I didn’t say anything the “I v I” in “l I v I n g“ is supposed to make it look like the ‘v’ is trapped by the two ‘I’s
some people's footsteps are loud
they want everyone to know that they have entered
or perhaps they have no reason to hide
They strike the ground first with their heel
you can always hear them approach

but mine?
my footsteps are silent
I glide across without a sound
no one needs to know that I am here
I have reason to hide
I tread first with the pads of my feet
you will never hear me approach
You love him as I love you,
You hurt as I was hurt too,
You move on as I lay inert,
Apologies if I seem curt.

Really, what else could I want?
Gave us everything we wanted,
Still I remain just as haunted,
Feels like a self-inflicted taunt.

You love him as I love you,
You hurt as I was hurt too,
You move on as I lay inert,
Apologies if I seem curt.

Even so- with a white whale,
I hate to leave it incomplete,
Face meet the street, eat concrete,
It’s only right I don’t bite- just exhale.

Searched the turquoise in between,
Wispy cirrus clouds of tender gold,
Filter light through a sentient fold,
It’s all sublime, simply serene.

You love him as I love you,
You hurt as I was hurt too,
You move on as I lay inert,
Apologies if I seem curt.
 2d darkifytun
Rin
The sun has risen,
can you hear?
the songs of the morning birds.

Life begins to wake,
the gentle breeze,
blows softly against the trees.
A lovely view awaits.

The orange sky,
the feeling of life!
a beautiful sunrise it is.
:D
With Winter's leave,
Comes Summer's cleave,
Gone are the days of downy reprieve,
I feel naïve,
For I dared believe,
That Snowbird wouldn't dare to deceive,
When it flew away one April eve.
Written 01/04/25
I've never been a fan of Summer.
April unveils proof,
within the course of fate,
during the days of downpour & rain,
frightening showers forge new ways,
for vibrant May flowers
to bloom in place.
There's a chance,
I was AI generated,
Not born to a human,
Or made by a god,
A grand example of proper machinery,
Possibly another fault of humanity,
Because I wasn't programed with humility,
Maybe computer based artwork is so good,
Even I couldn't tell my mind is a mother board.
Not hinting at anything, just wanted to use this theme.
The old oak tree.
Regal, she stands watching all.
Beneath all is small.
it stings
but thats the price i pay
for doing bad things

again

will it ever stop?

will i ever stop?

itll stop when the world stops spinning
they say it gets better
to wait it out
itll stop when i stop breathing
why
"why?" is the question at hand
why do things never go as planned
i sit alone awake at night
wondering why i can't do anything right
why am i even here i wonder
what happens to us when we go down under
why do i do the things that i do
what is false and what is true
all of these questions scattered around
the weight of them increasing pound by pound
maybe my destiny will soon be uncovered
maybe new paths are yet to be discovered
for now the time will fly
and i'll still be asking "why?"
this is really old, but i thought i might post it for fun
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