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SK Feb 9
Spinning in your web of lies
A cocoon of love
Or a festoon of self?
Trophied under disguise

Cold to the touch
But burning in bliss
Partial exposure
I know what this is
Solar eclipsed

You do not know who this is
One face over another
Mirroring within
Body, malnourished
Feed me your sins
mer Feb 8
you're like a coffee

you cover yourself up with milk and sugar
hide your bitter taste and dark demeanor
with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle

you pretended to be something else
you tricked me into believing your lies
at first you were sweet
but as i got closer to your core
i discovered your true self

by then it was too late
for i had already consumed you
Roses are
violets are blue.
Daisys are
so grow them too.
I'll let you in
this garden of happiness
and together
we can
forget about our loneliness.
we'll grow old,
and the flowers.
And there will be no such thing as
no seconds, minutes,
or hours.
But when the flowers do begin
to fade,
I turn my head
to find out
that all you did
was fake.
And we’ll go on living
like we are in love
but really there’s nothing left.
Nothing but dust.
After publishing my poem, 'Roses are red', I got comments(or perhaps I should say suggestions) from Renee Danes and Rain(both wonderful poets you should totally check out!) and this poem is the result. Though parts of the poem were changed, I give much of the credit to Renee Danes and Rain and thank them both very much for their suggestions that hopefully made my poetry somewhat better.
Who was the first “Original”?
The shepard before the Sheep.
What did the sheep do before the Methodical?

Their following a facade of an imbecile, it’s pathological.
But without it, they would weep.
Who was the first “Original”?

Why can’t they see the fictional?
They pray the lord, their soul to keep
What did the Sheep do before the Methodical?

Has it always been traditional?
does it help them sleep?
Who was the first “Original”?

It is a joke to see this as Logical
We’ve been snowed by those in the Keep
What did the sheep do before the Methodical?

Why can’t we find Traditional
We sit in a crowd where we praise what they steep
Who was the first “Original?
What did the sheep do before the Methodical?
Sketcher Feb 7
Okay... see... I really like this girl and I've liked her for a while. She's a silly type of girl that would go the extra mile for any guy that might want *** from the forest to the tile. They might seem as sweet as can be, but they turn out to be vile. There's this one ****** guy who's only nice perk was his smile. He got her pregnant last year and she's about to have a child. I guess this was bound to happen, cause she's that type of wild that would get married at 18 and then immediately file for divorce in the courts, of course this would happen. While I'm studying the art of pickup, she gets sitting on his lap and then he might decide to stick his **** up and start clappin, cause I was never able to man up and I was too scared tap in. I guess my major hiccup was my constant state of rapping. Where has poetry ever even gotten me. Just a hobby while I'm stuck in this secluded monotony. I just hope one day I can say someone spotted me. In the meantime I'll be a lonely poet in the club of 'Forgoten Thee'.
maybe people are meant
to fall in love
but not meant
to be together.

i was coming to terms with this
only to find out
we werent in love.
i was.
you never loved me
you didnt feel anything for me
you tried to,
but loving someone isnt something
you can make happen.

we always said we were meant to be, right?
perfect for each other
you said our love was pure
and real
and unbreakable.
look at it now,
its shattered.

falling in love with you
was the easiest thing
ive ever done.
falling out of love
will be the hardest.
i guess the [lovers] code has been cracked.
Sketcher Feb 5
How do you know who cares and who doesn't,
Who's your aquantince and who's your friend,
A friend will always choose to show their love,
Making you feel happy a common trend.
They will give advice that you need to hear,
Whether you like what they say or not,
They will give you a shoulder to cry on,
They should be making you laugh alot.
Does their presence make you burst with joy,
Or simply make you wish life to go on,
They should give you comfort from dawn to dusk,
And make you feel welcome from dusk to dawn.
Sometimes there's rough times that lead to dismay,
This could possibly lead to a fallout,
With fake friends that you thought would always stay,
True friends will always stay without a doubt.
If they do care, then how much and how deep,
Both your carings should grow and amass,
Does their caring show in dreams during sleep,
Does their caring show from future to past.
Can you look back on times when they were there,
Look forward and know that they will be,
Reminisce in memories you share,
Share secrets to whatever degree.
Trust in them to the fullest extent,
And long for their elating presence,
Hear what they say and understand what they meant,
Show compassion in indubious pleasance.
Would they cry and feel pain if you died,
Would they go through the ultimate strife,
Would their agony fill to the ceiling,
Would they eventually take their own life.
Never take a true friend for granted,
They are more rare than you would ever think,
Be there and care for the ones you love,
For you could loose them within a blink.
There they go.
She's an angel among all the stars
She's a healer of all one's scars
She's the usual customer in bars
She has wicked, poisonous claws
She's the winner, of all draws
She's the breaker of all laws
Pandora Feb 2
don't leave me
just love me

not much of a poem.... but....
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