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An anchor weighs upon my chest applying pressure above my left breast, crushing it down to create a concave, I wave off EMT, there’s nothing left to save. It was only hope that I’d keep going, but I truly see no reason why, I was cursed with the gift of knowing I could only expect to just get by. I think I’d rather die. With a voice just like a symphony and your hands were my favourite vice, the gentle way that they held onto me, thank god your body made them twice. It was only hope to keep the memory, as that’s the reason why, I can look back at the past tenderly, but sometimes I wish it was a lie. Maybe it’s just the view of my eye. Arms like home and lips like heaven I found a shooting star at eleven-eleven. But I stopped wishing. Distanced by the strong will of the walls, I see you in the streets, pubs and shopping malls. But I stopped wishing, keep on fishing till life calls. In a way you did assist though you do not know it, as happiness; it killed the poet. It was only hope that I’d keep growing, but I can see no reason why, as soon the clouds will be snowing when I crave the rain from the sky. I will settle for the wind that’s blowing to cover up my disappointed sigh, if I must be cold I guess it’s best I’m dry. Now I don’t know what you want from me or even what you are expecting, as I don’t know if I’m good enough to deliver ‘cause where I feel a stab I only portray a sliver. It was only hope that I’d keep flowing and I’d find a reason why, the ancient embers continue glowing, the flames will return and be twice as high. Making me a firefly.
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Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 6:22 PM UTC
Happiness Killed The Poet
An anchor weighs upon my chest applying pressure above my left breast, crushing it down to create a concave, I wave off EMT, there’s nothing left to save. It was only hope that I’d keep going, but I truly see no reason why, I was cursed with the gift of knowing I could only expect to just get by. I think I’d rather die. With a voice just like a symphony and your hands were my favourite vice, the gentle way that they held onto me, thank god your body made them twice. It was only hope to keep the memory, as that’s the reason why, I can look back at the past tenderly, but sometimes I wish it was a lie. Maybe it’s just the view of my eye. Arms like home and lips like heaven I found a shooting star at eleven-eleven. But I stopped wishing. Distanced by the strong will of the walls, I see you in the streets, pubs and shopping malls. But I stopped wishing, keep on fishing till life calls. In a way you did assist though you do not know it, as happiness; it killed the poet. It was only hope that I’d keep growing, but I can see no reason why, as soon the clouds will be snowing when I crave the rain from the sky. I will settle for the wind that’s blowing to cover up my disappointed sigh, if I must be cold I guess it’s best I’m dry. Now I don’t know what you want from me or even what you are expecting, as I don’t know if I’m good enough to deliver ‘cause where I feel a stab I only portray a sliver. It was only hope that I’d keep flowing and I’d find a reason why, the ancient embers continue glowing, the flames will return and be twice as high. Making me a firefly.
emmackenzie
Written by
36/F/Ottawa
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 6:22 PM UTC
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