a criminal guts and glory is, a celebration of a century a century is a celebration, of a century a century celebrate a criminal, celebration of a century guts and glory celebrate a,
criminal guts and glory glory of a crime is glory’s crime a crime is a glory of a crime a crime is a glory of a criminal a crime’s glory is a crime’s guts and glory celebration is celebration of a glory crime celebration is celebration of a celebrated century
guts is glory’s celebration guts is guts of a glory guts is crime’s guts guts is crime’s guts of glory glory is crime’s glory glory is crime’s crime glory is crime’s guts and glory
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words from the renaissance for instance words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about crime’s guts and glory. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
License to die, Contract to ****, That was the deal, Buried my heart, Wore a mask And blood spills
Inhumanly human, Tears floods my heart, Yet, I stand head high Even with death Staring into my eyes
Chanting, No guts! No glory! For I am a lethal weapon And no one dies twice!
As I leave my body I remain loyal To Alfa, Died a Romeo for my country, Served as Mike, Till we meet in Yankee, Even in afterlife my symbol is peace But my loyalty belongs To the Alfa Romeo Mike Yankee.
When I find myself in dire straits, which is quite frequently, my guts will get me through. My feet tend to want to run. If my guts and courage are on board, my feet will follow, but left to their own devices, in any given situation that is troublesome, if my feet could talk, they would say, "**** this, run! " But usually my guts win out. I forge into the various battles that need fought. Win or lose, when my guts and feet are in one accord, it's a glorious day.
skin left sore and damage. Your purple flesh leaves marks that signify hate within others. Pain left from fathers and mothers, sister and brothers, friends or foe. I believe the skeletons I hide, have more guts than I do. Being pushed around and abused by those close to me without fighting back. But I know I would rather take a thousand cuts before giving one. I may seem so well put together from the outside, but I know on the inside I have been torn apart.
This is part of a project I am doing called the colour wheel. It is a draft piece and isn't very organized right now. I would love feedback moving forward with it.
sorry, did i stutter too much? i hope you don’t mind. it’s just that i’m scared my heart will fall out of my guts if i keep talking to you like this
because how do you say i love you without saying i love you? “i miss you” is too general to be perceived as anything but platonic, isn’t it? but “you matter to me” is too personal for my comfort, and “you are my world” might just be too much for the both of us
it’s not like i’m in love with you or anything, i just think it’d be nice to feel your heart beating against mine.