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Jeremy Betts Jun 22
Believe me you
I'm tired of hearing me too
I'm ready for this era to be through
It's sad to see in both you and me that the same resentment aimed in the same direction grew

©2024
Jme Love Apr 5
You gave me wings
We flew so high
THEN
You cut them off
That night in the sky
I
Fell to the earth
Shattered and bruised i
ROSE
From the dirt and rubble
Without you
THEN I ROSE
Jeremy Betts Mar 2
Always different but somehow not new
That's the only way I can frame this walkthrough,
The day to day I walk through
To look through these eyes is not something I'd wish on any of you
At best it's glitchy level design, I can't get a map I don't fall through
Worst, this is all predestined,
like wrestlin',
Every blow right on queue
A nonconsensual change of view
Not only but mostly due to the view of what relentlessly plays out in the minds eye,
A prisonesque venue
I didn't use faulty glue to put this mess together,
Who would choose this to turn into?
Nobody buddy,
Bad seeds planted in toxic soil is why this shiit you see here grew
This isn't the standard "good plan gone askew"
This miniscule piece of timeline was doomed from debut
In every story there's never enough time to repair before I will predictively have to leave you
At least according to the solo read through
Please forgive me for I loved you the only way I knew how too
My "how-to" example did more damage than I could undo
This is already more than anybody expected me to amount to
These aren't woven excuses, this is off the cuff, from the heart impromptu
I just want you to be the one who doesn't see me like they do
I know that's a lot of me to ask of you

©2024
Bryce Nov 2019
I want to wear a Persian shirt,
Run through meadows in a Celtic skirt--

I want to Don a Russian hat,
And plant my *** on the throne of Rome.

I want to bomb my words upon
London, Lisbon; Taipei, Taiwan

I would diffuse my fissile mind
And launch theoretical material like guided missiles

Give me this world of sand as a ball,
And children on the playground to toss against the wall--

It is a gift of thought to view the bulb
Of this time as a light in the firehouse
That ultimately dies
Only to be remembered by Liver's More.
someguy Apr 2019
***
Born in the dances of the night
Grew in the playful noises of light
Died and flew into the phantom blue of sky
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