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Emma Bugg Aug 2016
As I consumed by infinite numbers,
conservative prefaces,
artificial growths,
meaningful labels;
dreadful sins will always be as they are
forever stretching out The Love and a pity
become a perpetual giant concrete wall in between
don’t them all owe me a bottle of heady wine nor just a thank
o, o, o, please,
my heart is already ******!
poured up by their tang of lies
how can I ask for help in a myriad of plastic hearts?
Emma Bugg Aug 2016
O, where did all they go when he cleft?
or forever this woodpecker was chosen to be left
nothing lasts forever, as our hurts dance
with no shimmering stance
befriended with his own pallor face
to see abundance of worldly things running with no dice
while busily keeping the wastage stacked,
by alone he got thwacked
to rack every tiniest and lightest heart
for the sake to stay still in amidst of everybody’s part
unto pronounced as a best masked dancer
how poor he is by goofing off his beloved and his only one lover
by turning out his sleepy wacky head into cluttery niche
wait, he even does not aware he has been ditched

— The End —