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Nielsen Mooken Jun 2014
Pristine bristle of the jocund dreams of dawn,
Dewy eyes, desolate witness of dirge,
Boldness of the unhunted fawn of joy,
Feelings beautiful and naive, feelings denied.
Fear awakes with the spirit of the morrow
And poisons dwell in the ruins of memory
For in the winds is writ that in Chaos is Sanctity
alex kennedy Jun 2014
I burned maps to keep you lost in my eyes.
but you made a compass.
I blinded you hoping you would never think I was less than beautiful
but you found glasses.

I forced myself to go deaf
so i could run away from fate.
but fate started yelling
and fate got in my head.

fate wasn't silent, it was loud.
I knew you weren't meant to stay for long.
but what was i left to do
I saw you in a bright future in which I didn't belong.

but I've seen people cheat death
and if i yell louder than fate
maybe there's a chance that id be the one to make you lose your breath

I had a dream once with Destiny.
She told me I couldn't help you lose your breath
because you haven't been breathing at all.
She explained to me that you needed air

and I needed to slide back into my shoes
and stop being fooled by a ruse.
That I created by breathing too close to the mirror
making it hard to see past the fog.

I smashed all the watches I could find
thinking maybe all i needed was a little more time.
but fate brought you a sun dial.

Fate was the parachute in a falling plane ,
and I was the angry ocean reaching so high
just to taste the fabric of your pants
A poem inspired by the idea of people outrunning fate
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