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a dark room in the cellar
he laughed like a good old storyteller;
vengeance is what he needs
throwing away all his good deeds

his train of thoughts
carried his mind
wandering into different places
feeling so divine

a world which turned
hallelujahs been gone
an enemy has returned
stop it— I'm done.
i hope you like it!
An enemy.
Someone from childhood
I barely knew.

A time
where egos rise
and people lie
behind a smile.

But she
was stuck
inside her misery.

Never permitted
the world to see.

All of this
unknown to me.
As I fought
my own world of grief.

Hating.
Spiting.
Sneering.
Prying.

Wishing for her
to fall from grace.
So I could rise
to take her place.

Yes, we were young.
Lost in our thoughts.
Unaware
of any costs.

Yet still we grow.
Change.
And the universe
drives forward.

Making a fool of us all.
And our anger
for our enemies
feels so small.

We are all just cracks
in an endless
night sky
trying to find the light.

So I sent her grace
and wished to the stars
that she find peace
and be at ease.

And an enemy
she was
no more.
J J Oct 6
Always keep in mind--
You are your own worst enemy to somebody else
ibkreator Sep 29
without turning it into an enemy to **** again

the enemy isn't that man is
its that man makes it to be
Axel Sep 16
I wiped my stained tears
and told myself
that maybe it's just a one time
but then again when I'm an angel they want to be the devil, but when I'm controlling, I'm the evil.

What's the point anymore of staying?
And what's the reason if there is none
if everybody's taking you for granted
while my voice stays flattened?

Falling to my bed,
losing all my words
and my metaphors ran with fears
to somewhere far away
where wishes exist and prayers stream like a waterfall everyday.
controlled
Ylzm Sep 2
The greatest enemy is the enemy within
The most evil is one most believed as God
The Shepherd sacrificed sheep, and sheep cheered

How can anything not be what it seems
How can I mean other than what I said
How can eyes see soul, when there is none

An apple can be nothing but an apple
A patriot hugs the flag, a christian waves the bible
And the loser, unarmed, accursed, hangs from a tree

In robes of peace, prosperity and power, reigns evil
In dispersion, despair and death, are its enemies
In friends with cleaned feet are traitorous deceivers
Alicia Moore Aug 24
I feel your presence shift past me.

To you, I am simply a memory.
A memory that has been tarnished throughout time.
An enemy perhaps.

To me, you are a ghost.
Stuck in time, without the knowledge of this collective reality.
Stuck in a cycle of decline and reassign.

You stand in limbo, observing your own mistakes.
But in your created reality, there are no such mistakes...

A ghost broken down by their choice of travel,
But blames the damage on the road itself.

You can only twist a story so far before the pages tear and split.
Ken Pepiton Aug 24
it just could be

all I'm sayin is it might be me

you and me
because
once
you agreed with me that if we
could agree

we might settle some confusion
and make some lasting peace.

It could be you and me, in the end,
who had such power
all along.

Don't get me wrong. I'm just sayin'
we could all agree that death
is part of life and nothing

we do in life will help us know f'shore,
but I bet it has no punitive purpose,

life teaches lessons, not death. All's I'm saying,

we could agree but, we
just never considered

this might be our own determined free will
doing some never done deed heroic, like
binding the sweet influences of Pleiades,
or re linking us
to a hope hidden in fear of death,
retying the shades of liberty to our souls.

My side wins when we agree, so
if I surrender my will to thine, freely, see
we win.

Death has no course that led to victory.

Fear of death is the lie that holds men
slave to the market
and to war. Lose the fear, lose the dread.
Un sung songs on a Monday
The daily letting go of a life
resembles waiting for birth,
only with birth
there is a specified length
of time for the arrival.
In dying,
there are no specificities
only vague estimations.  
There can be so many “almosts”
before the event.
There is no welcoming,
only a short or long goodbye.
And it hurts and it is hard.
Yet, as I wait I begin to think
that death is not an enemy.
Perhaps it is a release
from a space grown too small to confine,
like a womb out grown.
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