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EMPstrike Mar 2021
It’s been a while, and I thought you were done.
But now what’s begun
I’ve feared from the beginning.

I left to lessen the kindling ablaze,
But old embers stay.
Slowly burning the saplings.

  A new fire burns. Slowly at first,
And the smoldering vitriol only gets worse.
And compounds the agony of those you protect,
And you shade them from the rain’s effect,
As any influence not yours, you reject.
I expect-

-That you’re unaware of this fact-

   That rampant lies of fire breathing beasts,
Will burn the trusting.
So stop it.
Please.
EMPstrike Feb 2021
A change well beyond my normal ways
Has taken hold these past few days
And, to be fair, It's only for play
But it impacts me, unexpectedly.

The perfect form! Admittedly,
it is so only to me.
But, to be fair, it helps me see
How I believe I would like to be.

Her personality is exactly me.
Which proves I love myself for real.
But, to be fair
This is me,
If I were to be fair.

She makes me want to be healthy,
She makes me think that I can be,
Me
And see
That I want to be,
Fair, for someone else.
EMPstrike Nov 2017
Its been a long time, I remember you though
But this isn't the time for you to show.
There's too much to lose
and no way to go
so no.

I nip at you
Just to get a small taste
And we're much older now,
So I know what i face to lose in you're place
It's wise to keep what I have without you to replace
But it's still you that i face
And you force me to wait
But this might be the best part.
it's worth it to me. Just to be.

Let it Be.
EMPstrike Jan 2017
Woven, connected,
Grown
Then extracted,
Compressed,
Then stretched,
Then shipped to the masses.

Adding graphite or ink
makes plain paper think.
Not IT's thoughts are shown,
But stained by my own.

As part of what's real,
This paper, i feel
Has birthed a thought into existence.

Fertilized by pen,
This thought can be read,
From the womb of the dead
Cut down by human,
With no visible dread.

This paper, quite possibly, had thoughts of its own.
As it lived in the forest, if it's life it had known.
And no way to record them into intepretable realms,
So a favor, I hope, to offer to them:

"There's nothing like a sunny day.
Except a rainy one.
My life is done.

goodbye."
EMPstrike Jan 2017
Given a way into the sky,
I don't think I'd fly.
Why should I?
My legs would be useless.

Given a place way out in space,
I'm not sure I'd take.
The change it would make
On my body.
Oh the changes.

   Heaven is peace, Destruction is fate
And both are the same,
Up in that place.

Nothing out there is inherantly bad
Only down here
Can destruction be sad.

Life is so precious,
Covet it so,
Then multiply and smother
The planet we own.

Noone cares but us.
EMPstrike Aug 2016
You've met a stranger that gives you new meaning
In the void of darkness, polar opposites meeting
coming together you form something new.
Igniting life in the void which you grew

But you are still dead to me.

Raging, burning, colliding, churning
Reacting to others with totally new form!
Your activities erupting, and grow while we're learning.
From the light of your existence we are born.

But you are still dead to me.

  Soon you depart in violent explosion,
To a fresh, new form.
this new element: "Awareness"
being and knowing that you exist briefly,

This is the only time you are with me.
Just briefly.

And when you change form, and enter the ground you've created
And the feet that once bore you are no longer needed.
And you set out, again, on unfathomable journeys.

You're dead to me, once again.
EMPstrike Aug 2016
Social creature
Never claiming such.
With "abnormalities" un-crutched,
You've touched.

The imprints you've left are what may haunt you,
Otherwise, loneliness may overtake you.

Let them in, speak your mind
Open up, back down
It's time to hide,
And find a familiar place to confide.

A familiar mind that appears to know you.
It's all you need.
Somewhere you can open.

Now your imprints can be left without worry.
"Who was here?" Is comforting in the midst of confidants.

Now, no lonely concern of recognition
Paradoxian desires bursts minds in hiding.

To be known and unknown.
Appreciated but unshown.

Wanting anonymity.
Under guise of being idle.
Your home is exclusivity.

A social creature, intentionally untitled.
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