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Nixon Vang Jun 2013
In taller walls search for new life to base things on but they all know no ones found it can't claim I'm wrong, though plucked from life, revisions go on to frail contentment, who do you talk to, who do you think you see? Suffocating my God without wondering left in m, it's sage to enter, but are you the speaking double, vision or clone, maybe just my ghost is all you see.
Do they know? Do you count your blessings alone? Engrave you're worries. The needing to leave to a place you won't arrive.
I'm seeing the highway again, roads blackened and torn but well worn from my friends keep my focus beside the, was it all to make my trip back here again?
Do they know? Do you count you're blessings alone? Formed in a decaying cadence and hope, you took these blessings granted and merged them into a rope. Hebrew swing and silent discretion,a sea ferrets not you never learned to tie.
This is from my phone, and if you're like me, you write do much in a day, words run together
Nixon Vang Jun 2013
In silence now, lost all senses and time. mistaking favor, to whatever God I'd leave behind. Embracing a cold night. White hands paling rip around me pull my head down and to the side. for all my sobbing surrender, screaming, whaling, voices his favorite lullaby. My kind of lonely rejoices an impaling goodbye .The dozens in dimes paid for, The Devil throws a grave rose mockery in my sight. Horrific benighted, there's no pretending our knowing who gets through. Now gazing into me, "you see how much God's love remembers you?" "Sneaking around him is nothing new." "I'll lift your eternal warnings." Thinking my dying hearts no place for a soul to reprimand, and warnings always stand. pointing to look to the promised land, from here we see coffins of glass poking through the sand. Devil rolls his tongue, contorting the messages to lies. Sighing, "only selling closure for the broken, and before they die, they're always asking for new, agent blind less, pain enabled, and filters to my lies, you know there's always a truth in what I do." All actions have paid for, misery prayed for cheapens a forced fed compromise. knees cracking the ground, clasping hands and hollow eyes, agony stayed for, pain in magnitudes you could never never describe. take the gate keys to your burned down bridges," enjoy the blue night cold before white hot ignites the sky.
Everything better us a analogy. Not a convert poem, religion baited our Pentecostal. All in here are caterers only.

— The End —