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greatsloth Mar 19
This moment is just a dream,
An illusion of a greater being
And once the cold death
Gave us it's warm embrace
We will fall into silence
As we wake up to see the reality.

If so, then why plague your mind with worry?
If this is just a dream, then why are you experiencing it in tragedy
When you can easily make it into comedy.
I'm airing out these poems, they went unuploaded for a year lol
greatsloth Mar 19
Burning desire for a flesh
Tear it apart,
Pound them hard;
Nether are screaming—
Another angel to consume!
The master is not in my skull
It is inside my pants.
one of the poems I made last year.
greatsloth Mar 19
O my heart is ill
It does not cough
But it does love
greatsloth Mar 18
You see words the same way I do,
With eyes that glow in yearning,
With heart bursting at the seams—
My comrade, you are.

We traverse these dimensions
Of black and white,
Where the smell of papers
Lingers into our lives.

Each smile is a memory,
A dream or an adventure;
We have bonds beyond reality
More precious than any treasure.

It is carved deep into our marrow,
Identical to the myths that we hallow,
The moment you read any prose,
Fate binds us as fellows.

Your mind and my mind
Like God's hands they intertwined,
Creating myriads of realities
That only we could realize.
Made for the AB month of our college.
greatsloth Feb 6
She is that flower in pinkish-red hems
Blooming amidst the silent, withered stems;
She does not need any grace of water,
But pleased to tears that have fallen over

My hand trembles, I cannot pluck her roots—
She's too precious to be in worn-out boots;
Though it hurts, I'll hope there's a gardener
Who'll place her where light shines a bit kinder.
greatsloth Jan 26
This darkness is mine
This coldness is fine
They are my prize
For fearing lies

Only to the starlights
And to the midnights
My lips curls a smile
Companions till my last mile

As exciting as crumpled paper
My existence's a water vapor
A field without vivid flowers
A tree with a fragile roots

My soul shall rest
With no tears to someone's dress
Write this on my epitaph:
Here lies the heart that did not love
greatsloth Jan 15
If we're in our eighty's
And you thought of me
Relax and don't worry
Days have passed of me being weary

Now I'm floating, not in heaven
Nor purgatory and hell even
I'm one of the stars which the night livens
Smiling like when I was eleven.
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