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shamori Jun 2019
What's the difference between good and evil if we have the same goal? The means to attain it?

But the means are near identical, so what is it?

The last person who attained that goal is who decides. And the start of that comes with the end of life.
shamori Apr 2019
Tell me what’s it like when you get a hold of
The things you want and whatever you prayed for

3 whole nights on that greyhound, searching
Looking for peace in a bottle of bourbon
Find hope in uncertain cuz one things certain
Dead by 27 if I don’t put the work in
Eyes wide open, head on a swivel
Looking for an answer to this ******* riddle

Mama told me keep my head on straight
I can’t come down
But the turns and the crossroads seal your fate
In this town
Screaming out to god with the ugliest face
I look alive
3 more years til it all goes away
I have the time
shamori Jan 2019
They say cleanliness is next to god, but those who prosper follow the tracks left in mud.

Born pristine, on a parallel wavelength, all is one. Told to go wrong, to fit in, to reach the next level.

Arms stretching, reaching for glory. Stepping on heads, hating those below me.

Laughing, ridicule, destruction of value. Man made standards, paper idols. Please give me value.

If Jesus is leader and Satan a demon, then who do I look to if my masters are evil?

And when my meaning is compromised and shoved in the dirt, why must I sin to replace my hurt?

Inverted letters. Darkened faces. The contrast of what’s pushed forward.
Although this can’t be it, I still lack a logic to morals.
shamori Jan 2019
Attached for life
A reminder of tough times

Not to remind me of tougher times, but to remind me that I’m still in tough times



Can I cover up how I feel with how I feel?

Just to look down and feel ashamed of how ashamed I am?


Will you look at my skin and wonder of a story? Ask for my motivation? Or look at my skin and make up a story and wonder on my lack of motivation?


I feel good about my designs. They define me.
I hate these designs. Because they don’t define me.



With pain comes pleasure. A sign of living.
With that pleasure comes numb and a longing for living.
shamori Jan 2019
I could have helped build you in my moment of destruction.

But I left you...

   I returned...yet I was the one to inform you that I wasn’t home.

     Now you’re gone and I’m still lost...




What’s worse is I can say I’m honestly at my most comfortable in this space of numbness

I’m sorry and I miss you
This is the cycle we were given to.
Dedicated to a lost friend
shamori Jan 2019
Walking Running sun down...Yes I'm Pursuing

Turn around Lock Eyes...I knew it

Drag me by my soul...Whisper in my ear

Tell me what's real
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