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Come flower child,
Join the rest,
In the autumn fields abloom.

Come flower child,
Join the patch,
In the rolling hills of autumn.

Come flower child,
Lay to rest,
Just like all the others.
Who came to the autumn fields,
Lined with stones.
I'm working on my classical styles, trying to learn that depth they had.
Gravedigger, gravedigger,
Why do you spend you evenings,
Dredging in the yard?

Gravedigger, gravedigger,
Does this break your heart,
That nobody else wanted to do the ***** work,
So they left you to shovel through the mud?
I might've used up my inspiration yesterday.
Yoh Esters Jun 2024
She asked me what it’s like to fall in love with someone that previously lost their first love to Grim.

I explained that unlike other couples that work together to lay one brick on another to make their own home.

I’ve been repairing a house after it was bombed. This house had marks from the bombing here and there. Deep down in her heart there is a room title first love.

It’s a room I should never open up even if everyone in this world opens up to look at it.

I’ll set my foundation in this home. And remind her that while repairing this house. She won’t have to worry about remodeling ever being done on that room….
Man Jun 2024
Our chariot soared through the tunnel
And from out of the dark, light.
The sight of the city erupting
With fires' glare burning bright,
Venom like a snake's bite.
Vast buildings careening down,
As we maneuvered around them
The air was thick with smoke
And the smell of lead & sulfur,
The ground shook in violence.
We landed in a clearing,
The end was close at hand
The limits to see it, subjective;
For many laid dead in our stead,
Many enemies & siblings come to head,
And long did we have to tread before rest.
I unfurled the flag
And hoisted it up overhead,
Flying high on the mast.
I said my prayers
And made my peace,
Before the rain began.
All around me was storming,
Shutters battered marble
Amid crys for no quarter-
Blood was to be our recompense
Joshua Phelps Jan 2024
I spent my life,
Dancing around
Tragedy.

Tried to claw
My way back
to the surface,

But the light
Never showed
itself today.

I wake from
My dreams,

With a heavy feeling,
Haunting me

Heart breaking,
And a deep sadness,
That left the very core
Of me frozen with the reality

A stark realization
That love was
never meant to be.

Miserable as can be,
I accept some things
never change,

But I can’t will it away.

Tragedy is here to stay.
a melancholic soul that realizes an old love can't be re-kindled. i've got to move on.
Bardo Feb 2023
He came up to me this guy and introduced
  himself
"Hello", he said, "I'm You"
I looked at him uncomprehendingly, even a
  little afraid
I thought 'How can you be me, I'm me... not
  you'
It's like he'd come to take me over
He was after my pronouns
He wanted to own me
It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Or the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper come
  to get me
I was about to take off running down the
  road
I thought "You can't take me, I... I'm already
  taken
Then I thought 'If you're me then who am I,
  I'm what then....
Maybe that was it, maybe I was a What now
And he... he was a What-not or a not-What
"You! You're You", I said back to him a little
   doubtfully
"You", he said again this time with emphasis,
  "You O'Brien"
I looked at him closely "You, you're You O'Brien" I said slowly confirming what he'd
  just said/told me
Then it hit me You!... Hugh the Borg from Star Trek (the Next Generation LoL), that episode the Borg collective Guy becomes an individual
"You're Hugh" I said greatly relieved, you're
   Hugh, Hugh with a H
It was like I'd been released 'So you're not
  me after all'.

When he'd gone though I thought, maybe if he had of being me he might have made a better job of being me than I did.
Bit of fun.
Naeem Sep 2021
Mundane celebrations to mask our ever closing demise
Working 9 to 5s, never fully enjoying our limited lives
Never knowing which day will be our last
So we choose to slave away for a world
That we will never fully experience
In the hopes our successors will enjoy the fruits of our labor
But inevitably enjoy the same propaganda pamphlets that their parents once read
And slave for a world, that their successors might enjoy
All the while, the reapers scythe sharpens.
What are your thoughts on our impending doom?
Zane Gorham Mar 2021
The chalky Cliffs of Dover crumble in my fist.
Tucked away neatly in my pocket.
I have the power to become a person completely in control.
The tension seething in my chest no longer.
All I need is the key.
A simple motion not readily accepted by the masses.
'Tis not we who wait for the dust to settle but for the dust to settle we.
The reuptake of life hidden but always near.
We care not for the hands that pass the life from person to person.
For they could be from the grimiest of grim and still our hands are cupped for their foul crooked benevolence.
We are gods and what is purity without the soot and **** and **** to define it.
Synthetic courage and emotional restraint what more could the people want.
Only a few care for the real me, the anxiety, the truth.
Why pander the rest when I have complete control within a plastic seal, tucked neatly in my pocket.
What's the point if I have to explain it... ZG
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