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M Clement Sep 2013
And with every ******* word you spit
I knew you buried the shovel further
And further into that ****** dirt
Just hoping someday that you’d cover yourself
And all your worries with the **** you’d flung to the sky
And it’d bury you
And it’d bury you
And it’d bury you
Just a surge of emotion; it turned into this. I'm happy with this piece in an odd way. Sorry for the language, everyone.
M Clement Sep 2013
Continue talking:
**** me
I guess I'll leave:
Bill me
I got bored:
Thrill me
Not getting the message:
Still me
Particularly long lecture that went over its given time. The woman, while intelligent, seemed ill-trained in the art of lecture. Due to a certain beverage (of which nature I will leave be) I was in an odd state, and her lack of time-keeping was a particular annoyance.
M Clement Sep 2013
There's so many things
that go bump in the night
So many creatures
Wanting to cause you fright
And all I will do
Is cackle in delight
Given your slow, terrifying
plight.
M Clement Sep 2013
I want to write poetry
All I get is words.
I have felt like I'm not really in my poetry anymore. This is a reflection of that feeling.
M Clement Sep 2013
Caught up in emotion, lack of thought,
or what else?

There's little worse
than looking back
toward your past,
seeing the good out of your missteps,
but still regretting them
all the same.
M Clement Sep 2013
There was silence left in
sanity
And nothing left for
vanity
With little time for
calamity
No mind: Sean
Hannity
I don't even know Sean Hannity; it all just rhymed.
M Clement Sep 2013
I am struggling to be apart from this.
In its entirety
Because I am it
and it, me
But I want to be away
To be held
To be in awe of a greater presence.
I grow tired of this.
I grow weary of corporeal
Of being.

I want to be away.
To be apart.
To say farewell to this.
I am feeling not so great tonight. I recognize my poetry reflects that. I'm ok! I promise. This is just a bump in the road.
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