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Sofia Sep 30
I love the deep hatred of a character,
The want to ****,
But the seeking of restraint,
I love their murderous gaze,
Their intent full of disgrace.
I hate the knowledge that it will most likely change,
That they will grow,
Learn to love,
To reciprocate,
And not to throttle their wrong doer by their necklace.
Their hate is perfect,
Like an art of perception,
Because only true love comes from the hate of deception.
You have outgrown a handful of lovers and a multitude of friends—
separating your solid pains from a liquid of your tears;
But you were caught in the strain, for as you grow and change;
those you’ve known will grow away to be a change of friends

Through every fence we ***** between ourselves, some remain
on the side where you cultivate your life, while others are
relegated to the opposite side, merely spectators from afar

Maturity is a bittersweet taste:
the sweetness of realizing your growth,
akin to savouring a fine wine, - contrasted by the bitterness
of knowing you will part ways with a few friends
Cos as you feel alone; you’re not the only one in this
world to find growth
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Zywa Jul 21
I'm searching the book

you gave: you are everywhere --


you're so deceptive!
Autobiographical account "De harde kern" - 1 ("The *******" - 1, 1992, Frida Vogels) - Summer 1968 in Cupra Marittima (below Ascona)

Collection "Trench Walking"
Man Jul 2
Fools will paint with broad strokes,
Throw large loops,
And apply utterly meaningless labels
To the wide swath of subjects
Which they will not even try to understand.
Common man & academic-
There will be many who approach you
With the guise of knowledge,
Some through the visage of an education,
But will speak and show
Their teaching was not adequate
Lacking and inappropriate.
Character defects? Poor teachers?
And, you ask, where do I fit?
What do I know?
Evidently more if you have the will to ask,
The strength to accept the honest answer.
No one
Silence has a favor to ask
Move the might, adored withheld
Are, the voice of lies, and the act

***
In one misery, to embarrass
Signs to defer, elaborate hosts vex
A callous waste, of decided pasts

Long spoken treacle
Superiority has the moment
Fear, despair; married an oracle
Save your childhood first, the tickle relented:

Poison to youth...
Prestige came by paper and honey
Sweet nothings, that promise to tow aloof
Until presence is a form to money

Money already spent
On have and Eden?
Where has a liberty, been meant?
Somehow the miserable wind, has cried for a reason...
For those that know a tiger to be an eventual means to many woes
Jeremy Betts Apr 17
To pain I am no stranger
The first name basis is strange for sure
Caught up in an above the boards love affair
Like day to day warfare
It's fare if everyone fights fare
Otherwise it's life as a sucker in a bunker
Still not safe from the vulture culture
Fueling an anger that stirs the rage monster
Who then in turn wakes the violence that likes to linger
One v one they're barley a threat to boil over
The one benefit found for getting older
They can be handled in short order
But together they can alter a future
I acknowledge the fact it's part of my character
And work to recognize each trigger better
Enabling myself to be my own mediator
So I can step in-between me and myself quicker
It was all just, once again, too little too late,
I missed the transition from raging river
To city sewer
Instead of shooting a flare in the air I dropped anchor in danger
The last bridge I let smolder after traversing over
Was the only bridge out of my hell,
A sobering thing to remember only after realizing there was never going to be a true winner

©2024
Amanda Kay Burke Sep 2023
You can't craft honor
Character a clear birthmark
Darkness a defect
I think you can pretend but ultimately we are either born with it and are naturally inclined to do the right thing or without it and are forever doomed to replicate those who are. Sometimes they are successful but most of them fail miserably.
Josephine Wild Sep 2023
I am just me.
A single being.
A beginning and an end.

I am just me.
An individual.
My character and personality and morality belong to myself.

I am just me.
A human alone.
My heart is mine alone to own.

I am just me.
A person all my own.
My worth terminates in myself alone.
Feeling the sense of self during meditation. It’s just me and nothing else matters.
I wanted to tell the character that I'm writing
That his story would not be a happy ending

And yet with his innocent smile
And joyful eyes

He follows the paragraph like a guide
He soon will know

What a heartbreak will feel like
How betrayal changes someone

But he will also know
What the author feels like
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