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Jan 2011
Rant, rant, complain, complain. My words fall out like summers rain. Adore, adore, give me more. The heart on my sleeve is an open door.
Begin, begin, end and end. No one will feel my true love again.
Weep, weep, sweep and sweep. My ***** secrets are mine to keep.
Feel, feel, becoming motionless. I'll never be able to read your lips.
Focus, focus, lose my grasp. The life of a ***** is one hard task.
Live, live, die then die. The more I feel, the more I cry.
Sing, sing, silence, silence. When you fall in love, I fall to violence.
This is a poem about people who feel unappreciated so they become what modern society refers to as a *****. It's not an insult, it's just insight. What they see as a way out, we see as a way down. So for all of those people who have no love in their lives, or feel broken down and hopeless. For the people who think the only way to feel love is to feel bodies against theirs, then I hope you know. People understand, you just need to find the right ones. I hope I explained this in an understandable matter.
Written by
Dean Bonsignore
660
 
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