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Nolan Willett Apr 2019
I would like to meet my true potential
I don’t think he’d be so provincial
I’d like for him to be influential
Maybe even presidential
And life would not be so abysmal
Hedonistic ways not quite so sinful
To friends and family essential
Words not so banal and artificial
But instead heartening and meaningful
Axion Prelude Aug 2018
Genuinely feeling hope for something good, and being lead by false hope to believe a lie as truth, are two different beasts

I don't hate myself for what I felt, or thought, but instead what I was lead to think was okay to believe

I was lied to, again; my words beckoned something I thought was genuine, and deceit was all that met me, just like every time before it

I'm sick of being here, of thinking anything gets better, because it's true that the those who spend their fortune at keeping an authentic heart for others will inevitably end up alone, indebted to those who only care of themselves

I give myself away too often, but only for what I objectively observe as being meaningful, but I'm afraid that closing off my mind will bring me to the dark place again, and I never want to go back there

I have no control of what someone believes or feels, nor do I know what that may be, all the same

I just take what I am given, if it seems and feels good; if it echoes compassion and sincerity, because that's exactly what I lack most

I hate being a slave to this paradox, but my freedom may only come with absolute truth

I have no more faith for that - I still hope; potentiality rings, but I know that's one sided on my end

A wish is a wish..
s May 2018
you little shattered thing, have
you lost your pieces again?
are you still
seeking comfort
from someone's
apathetic hands?
allowing yourself to cave in
to their abysmal demands?

you stupid little thing you
disappear more every day
even your reflection dissipates
cause it can't bare to see your face

you human-turned-monster
have you forgotten how to live?
didn't anyone teach you how to give
parts of yourself to the others?

you ******* idiot
why can't you remember the past?
do you just choose to forget?
and why do you lie
about your quiet laments?
are you blissfully ignorant  
or are you consumed by regret?

     your sweet shy soul
     where did it go?
depression
depression
depression

— The End —