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Some of us Christians                                    
          Some of us do a fantastic job                          
                       Some of us do an odd job              
                                Some of us do a terrible job.  

                                                         ­    And that's not O.K.

Because some of us will never agree on anything.
But that's O.K.

                                                           ­                   It isn't O.K to
                                            Attack      At­tack
                                         Attack            Attack
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              attack                              ­                                      attack
              ckAtta­ckAttackAttack            AttackAttackAttackA
                   ­                      Attack            Attack          
                              ­           Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­ Attack            Attack
                                        ­   Attack         Attack
                                            Attack       Attack
                                              Attack   Attack

                                  T h e  o t h e r  b r o t h e r s !
Live by the sword, die by the sword. This is one of the causes of my mental distortions. It is likely borderline. Who knows. This was written after getting fed up with the Christians shouldn't have tattoos debate. Oppressive household. **Use computer for intended layout**
Nothing but a forlorn pain
Phantoms of art
Snake charmers
Larva tamers
“Free Me from the sun”

Helicopter steed
Blaring Gjallarhorn
Crystalline ammunition
Shrub-like heads
Civilian militants

Snake charmers, take my hands
Sting them once again
Render me strong and heartless
Tend to my obsidian horn
It grows longer as the sun subsides

Blood on the papers
Christened for television
Whitened crusade
Negotiation for control
Count your blessings

Arm the hangars
Send the reserves
Whip the cavalry
Watch the nation
Watch them bleed again
Bhawna 4d
I always admire things
when they are gone
leaning on the past
with a fantasy song

sitting alone
doesn't mean i 'm lonely
coz, its my time
to revive my past strongly

i knew importance of them
but never knew
i was important too
coz, they never claimed

they moved out
they moved ahead
and i 'm still there
with my heart shred

i was crying once
but no one heard
i criticised myself
made myself blurred

then one voice
came out of ashes
it fired and burned
all doubts and dark forest places

i stood up, started moving
now there is no looking back
coz, i have a task
to fill my pride stack

though i criticised this moment
but it let cat out of the bag
now i need to
wash and wipe my 'MISS FRAGILE' tag

now my soul knows what to do
i gotta have my mind in my team
i promise
i will not be inclined
thanks to my dear life
Ought I be so scared
of the monsters I fell in love with?

I should know by now
that a man with such an acquired taste
for knives and playthings
could tear me in half.

Their desires to be like me, of me,
torments me as much as the thought
of being like them;
and oh, how my false confidence
destroys me in the end,
pretending I could never fear them.

How quaint it is to exist
inside, between, such disfigured forms
of speech and image,
but must I tremble at their voice,
must I crumble at the feet
of something so deformed?

I know if I see him, see them,
I would much like to be afraid,
and every part of my bones
will collapse into flakes and shards,
only for me to later inhale
my brokenness, with disturbed breath,
and I will feel my eyes swell with lamenting salt,
sensing I'm letting my weakness show.

I've never wanted to run away
as much as I've wanted to run away from him,
from them,
from the absolute tormenting weight of them,
their brown eyes, their brown hair,
their terrible smiles,
they've always claimed to want me
and now I fear they might come
to take me, just like they always said they would.
what a horrible mess we made
what a shame it is for me to have to clean up the pieces
The absence of you
has been so fulfilling
that despite what love I had to give,
I have found peace
in not giving.
I don't know if I want anyone or anything else for awhile. I need to think on it, he has really ruined it.
Nothing is enough
Nothing says love more then a social media post about her, right?
A post to reinsure that my position being a son is formed by approval for the media to recognize that my love is enough
I think about this every day.
Why do you need a post to assure your loved? Liked?
Maybe ill just like the post so the repercussions don’t fall far from the petty position she’s left standing on,
Firm, aligned, or is she an allie?
An allie that this mother tore the son’s soul from every being that man she always wanted but never let the soul of cujo surpass his demons.
I was the demon.
I never knew how to love her. I was always civil.
I always knew resentment.
Because to her,
Love is letting everyone see a satisfaction,
Stevie wonder’s superstition, spoke to me, while he sang “writings on the wall”, I posted a post of a glimmering light while I was sitting, dwelling in the dark.
Addicted to drugs, and now pills till this day and somehow she wants respect out of me?
Respect from what?
Respect to whom?
****, you got to respect my hustle.
All I ever did was want nothing more then a mother,
I can call my best friend.
I see it everywhere, the bond that a mother shares that a child will chase to the highest cloud looking for their mother’s direction to soar.
Soaring always came as an instinct to me.
My father drank my childhood down,
I found my childhood down street,
I was never trained to expand my wings, to oversee my demons, direct myself to a clash of life’s titans,
I found strength in friends.
I’m alive cause of them.
I’m a better man cause of it.
I’m the king who was killed from chapter one.
I will always love you for being my mother, being the one who kept me alive before memories faded from the blunt I held, choking.
I've seen your trenches,and I've seen your graves,
I've heard of your weapons and heard of your slaves,
I've imagined the fumes and imagined the rain,
I've imagined the sights but can't imagine the pain.
Not from bayonets,nor shrapnel blasting out,
But from the vision of the gunshot taking the Fritz down.
From the riddling guilt as your hand pulled the trigger,
Which wiped out the unknown,young German figure.
From the nightmares of his family collapsing at the news,
That their beloved son had succumbed to his wounds.
You look over these beaten fields awash with confusion,
Wondering how on Earth humans partake in such delusion.
How they thought,somehow,it'd be the most fitting plan:
"To sort out all of the world's problems-set man after man!".
You walked out on that field regardless, till your last dying breath.
And you made sure,under all circumstances, to fight until death.
For this I'm forever grateful and still can't suffice,
Why we give you two minutes a year, when you gave us your life.
GraciexJones Dec 3
People will always assume the worst,
They start to pick holes in matters,
The petty anguish building up,
The insecurities raging from within,
Taking over our personalities,
Our identity
Our voice,
What a waste of consciousness,

Everyone has their own truth,
Their own interpretations of how one has come across,
Alienated by their opinions,
Perceived by their world views,
Personating their entity,
Mocking their capability to have agility,

The reasons why we disagree becomes a parody,
The constant need to be respected and heard,
A battle to be recognized for own self-worth,
For our ego to be replenished from the earth,

Our souls are getting tired from the same old fights,
Tapping into triggered memories,
The accusations and build-up of lies,
The trapped feelings we are unable to hide,
The close friendships and company we once thought we had,
Start to evaporate and mould itself into an unknown presence,

Our consciousness can’t bare it any longer,
Feeling exposed to our vulnerability,
The liability of handling our emotions,
The probability it could happen again,
It’s time to move on,
Regardless of what we tell ourselves.
Zoe G Dec 1
You don't cry in war
You don't just find what you were looking for
Because the person that loved you
might not care about

So why do you keep score of life
if its just a bore
to watch the strife go
on and on
like an overplayed song

That's what they say
but I think it's ok to cry
and say goodbye to yesterday
because I'm not counting
your score
Michael Kelly Nov 30
The pen can strike much deeper than the sword.
Yet the sword will always have its place.
It deserves the utmost respect.
Like a solider who sets out to meet his foe- he recognizes his enemy and acknowledges its power.
He's prepared for every blow.

Know your place and learn your stance.
Be ever quick to hold your tongue.
The man behind a rifle analyzes every angle before he pulls the trigger on that gun.

Both a bullet and a word can send a ripple in effect.
Make no mistake in all your judgments
they may stretch the length of death.

Pressing on into the future yet we never know what's next.
What does tomorrow hold?
Take a guess, and I assure you it's as good as mine will ever be.

I see a man behind a desk;
he conjures up a thought.
I see a soldier set in battle;
he's prepared to take his shot.

You see before the lights go out, there's always work yet to be done.
As the clock continues racing,
set your pace against the sun.

Take aim.
Your opponent is at the ready.
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