Flesh of a lonely man Needs make up Wreaths on this list coming
Crossing out and ticking the boxes We’re still holding the dust of souls And ashen glances look like desultory glances
****** on the nursed streets The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes
Feigining for the father figure I hope we have had a good time The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly
Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever
Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way
I’m glad the worker is dead I wanna govern it all to Elative and error in my loveless ways I can’t get anything out of my horse and wine
It gets cold at night I close my eyes Try to see The loved ones who've left me Faces growing dim Tears creep Down my cheek where they seldom Fall Fists clenched Heart tight For its been Too many a night Since I've seen How their eyes shine
Too many to count With one hand Forgotten memories fade away To return in a frightening manner Unexpected
Sorry if I'm a little hard spoken on this poem, But the ******* that i put up with for so many years got me Clinching my fists and releasing my hate on the tree in the Backyard where all the weights are, no point to recharge, No point To be on guard, **** this life and the people that tried to end mine, Picking on my mental illness, I can see the end around the corner. Is it a crime to want to live in peace, no there no peace nowhere, They say God doesn't put you through something you can not beat, And while I'm torn between the fake and reality , I can not be.
. conscience of gold never stopped me from wrapping my heart up in the darkest of things. don't go, tread softly on this newly broken soil. Kiss your palms once each before you touch anything that resides here. Leave your twisted metal heart at the door, it won't pass the screenings. I want to know what summer tastes like I want to know how the colors rest on your tastebuds and dissolve into your bloodstream, warm and welcoming. Brush the dust off old phrases turn them over in this new light to see how they fit. Shelf them, along with iron fists and barbed wire. We've no need of such weapons in this place.
my heart is a shield, it shall make people heed before they fight into it, my fists is a reliable weapon i do not wish to use, but i do, my skin is where my weakness lies, where things can crawl all over it with or without my permission, however my mouth is where i can strike those in the heart, its a canon i always use, and my eyes? my eyes. one of the worst of them all. my eyes can hold the warmest sun but also yield the coldest storm
They may have this moment, immature gestures of what lies beneath there misgivings, of pushing me against the walls of my self-esteem.
They may have this moment, glancing words, reverberating, like fingertips on crystal shards, within the static frailty of my self-worth.
But my moment was when, I realized I wasn't broken damaged, It was all about there need for control on a world that has none. And I'm no longer there's anymore.
My words of thanks, yes your quite charming! With your systematic verses, but you need to vary oneself. As you sound like a repeat of last nights show... And repeats get boring. So what manner of vocabulary, abusive motions do you want to play out?? if none please just move along...