You took everything and returned to the scene To take home some images of victory and I knew too late what happend Staring right into your eyes as the realization ended All I could do was try to look anew Attempting not to bleed right through While I splashed about in shallow waters I'll just have to learn how to go without The shame in this game will never max out and you left me there weeping Sold me cutthroat trout I ate it up Gluttonously Then spit out the bones of the person I used to be She's so far from me I ode to the quicksand beneath my feet To the weasle who found a way into my keep The racoon who robbed me so blind and left me defiled morales Now left behind and strung about I graced him like a loser should I fought but much too late I understood
Don't **** them with violence because they will still win don't **** them fast because lord knows they deserve pain don't **** them with your words they are too valuable to waste on such **** no if you really want to hurt them then **** them with your smirk every time they **** with you raise a corner of your mouth ever so slightly an "is that all you've got" smile because everybody knows you are stronger smarter better than all of them and it ****** them off so **** them with smirks and if that still isn't enough well you can always just **** on their graves afterwards
Isn't it very strange That the majority of humans on this planet Are right handed? I mean seriously Out of seven billion people Over three and a half billion Are right handed And I wonder What part of our genetic coding Dictated that The norm Was for people to rely On their right hand
The Ego and Shadow are carriage driver and horse; as the Self is the carriage, and Perception is the window.
It is frighteningly easy to regress into the slavery of your Ego and Shadow:
It is a fight one must consciously chose to fight within one's self as well as in the world at large; but few seem to recognize it as a choice, they're complacent to be their own slaves; that is to say:
Most people sleep in the carriage while Shadow and Ego mercilessly propel and steer them.
If you ask me, poetry is meant to be screamed out loud. So you can sink your teeth into every consonant; Run your tongue over every vowel. Rip into every syllable as they burst out of your chest. As the shock and truth of the power of words fight to calm nerves, tempt imagination and bring all strings of madness to temporary rest.
how quickly thine priorities abandon me stop telling me how good my hair smells stop twisting it around your finger like that **** it up and spend some real time with me i'm not an idiot i get what happens you get scared and you opt out go pray for some guts or something