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Composed of the opposition,
I am too afraid of the meanings
within the reasoning and
extremities of polar ends.

Ex.
steadfast vs. capricious
sincere vs. contrived
sadism vs. masochism
expansive vs. nonexistent

(circle one)

Frankly, between my want to know every
     cloud-breaking peak and sunless crevice of my animal, me,
        on this circular search for a emotional enlightenment,
    
      I am exhausted, from the in-between.
I sit and wait for the inevitable.....
Time passes......
I sit within stress and worry.

All the stress you've put me through,
My heart races,
My phone echoes,
I’ve run out of time.

Unconsciousness to consciousness
I drift,
Within my thoughts,
I am.....
My own worst enemy.
Taken from "Tears From An Addict" www.tearsfromanaddict.com
Broken is this state of mind
So I searched for another
Only to find I'd left behind
The thoughts of a long lost lover
And so I travel to my depths
To my core to find where they lied
To hear the whispers of the disrepaired
In my broken state of mind
Sitting on this rusty balcony
I teeter on the median of self-contempt
and why I latch onto men and women of any kind
so I am the ******* to those who are in the moment
I crave,
yearn for someone better.
Bemymuseyou
Bemymuseworld
I am just a blonde, ribbon-haired child you see
I am not the artist
sitting on a rust balcony
No I'm the child
Not the muse
not the Mother
I am not an author
creator
No I am a child.
Somebody help me, I've lost my muse.
Just another morning,
just another day.
Drag myself to the sink,
splash some water on my face.

Sometimes I look down,
at my trembling hands.
I want to wash them clean,
but I can't.
The stains are too deep,
skin like sand.

I work in a cubicle,
nine to five every week.
I come home to a wife and kids,
who don't understand me.

And every single night,
right before I go to bed,
I pray that these demons,
will leave my head.
Somethings that I've done,
are better left dead.

I feel the knife inside me,
twisting and digging in.
It's serrated edges tearing,
at the flesh and skin.

I feel the bullets sinking,
into my broken heart.
Sometimes it's easier,
to just hit restart.
I wish this world would realize,
war is hard.

I wish this world would realize,
war is hard,
on a heart,
now torn apart.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
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