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Simon Oct 7
Nonsense isn’t clear when self-induce becomes derogatory. Switching off claims to promote a zero-questioning start. Only for calamities to raise the bars of victory without circumstance. Pleading you to forget what you saw and repeat after me. Nonsense without structure, is relaxing too much. Does relaxing come after nonsense when zero questioning permits the struggle of structure? I digress for the infinite that is suggesting you relax when it comes to ******* interiors giving no rise to pressure that exceeds balance. Balance in the face of consequence. Consequence in the doubt of honor. Honor in the… WAIT! It’s nonsense, right? ALL OF IT!! EVERYTHING!!! Plain examples of zero switches without direction. Promoting the structure of pleading facts rubbing with calamities. Ruining what shouldn’t have been. Illusions! All of it. Claiming something, which isn’t a benefactor to logic raising circumstances toward rising the bars of victory. Doesn’t make any sense, does it? Any of this ringing a bell people?! Good. Just relax and create your own structure. Even how awfully permitting to other appeals it might seem. Structure is without consequence. Relaxing about regular customs to oneself, permits the desire to act with a calm disposition. Everything being a confused debate of nonsense. Only adding nonsense over something that’s already a relaxing structure. Is structure without relaxation? Enough details… I’m out! Structure your own appeals?!
Pace yourself without claims to malice. Sharing views is good enough without all the NONSENSE! Clear your victories...PLEASE!
Morning Jul 21
I think I loved you once upon a whispers dream.
I think I cared for you more than I thought,
More than it really must seem.
Because what is love to a seed?

A seed with no real intentions.
With no real expressions, but its expected
To grow.

To grow, in the ash painted battlefield,
Where the war set its claim.
The field you fled from, yet your spout remained.
A seed without its sower? A farm without its grower,
but somehow it continued to maintain.
In the beep pits of soot, it set's its proclaims
However, without its owner, it was all said in vein.
I'm sorry, let me refrain.

Refrain from expressing too much because I think it was all too late.
Refrain from expressing it all because I think you were my soul mate.
why me so dark  ^.^
Niki Gray Jul 20
Embrace who you are
God's shining star.
He has a plan for you.
Honor yourself and be true
to the passions you possess.
Rise and claim your best version of success.
Simple poetry,hope you enjoy!
Arcassin B May 21
By Arcassin Burnham

Positivity provokes good empathy,
and good empathy provokes so much stability,
I suffer from a wide array of **** with my mental,
Anxiety is no joke that's why I had to pick up a pencil,
and write down what I feeling because this world is nearly ending,
Trying to detox and clear my mind while airbending,
I stay awake in meditation while I program my mind,
In my Circumstance the third eye is hard to find,
So while people sit here and make these loud noises,
I'll be finding myself through all choices,
This world will not be hard to look at if you find your soul,
Tomorrow is not promised and you will be getting old,
Perception is reality depends on how you take it,
Lives are being claimed by the vultures and they fake it.
©abpoetry2019

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2019/05/hard-to-look-at.html
A Simillacrum Mar 16
Oh me, oh my,
I hate to sound trite,
but I guess in the end
we all die, so
turns out to be true
whatever way.

Oh me, oh my,
I hate to sound trite,
but I could really use
a lullaby.

Great Papa, he left.
Great Mama, so close.
Mama, in the deep end.
Sister, she ghost.

What's love got to do with it?
It just so happens, in my world it's all.
I am conditioned to serve in the name.
No matter how hard servants seek servants,
the wardens and the masters pick up on the scent,
come running over the distant hills to close in on the ****.

I am conditioned to serve in the name.
Here they come running to stake their claim.
An island lets itself go.
In rising  water finds a friend;
The past comes to naught.
Calliope Dec 2018
I still can’t write about him.
I still can’t say his name.
He is “the guy”.
The guy who ruined my childhood,
The guy who stole not only the safety of my bed,
But the safety in my head.
They tell me not to “let him win” or “give him the power”
But he already has it all.
There is no power left to give.
No game left to be won.
No innocence left to be claimed.
He can look at me, and he will know I’m his.
I’m his.
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