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Brandon Conway Jun 2018
A handful of dust, immortality
A portrait to age, immorality
A hungry lust doth consume, apathy
A conscience driven mad, insanity
Narcissistic soul buried, casualty
The capturing of youth, causality

If you are a demon
then send me to Hell
If you are a witch
then take me with your spell

If you are a drug
Then in my vein inject
If you’re a psychosis
Let my life be wrecked

If choosing to stay
Then a price must be paid
Sign a contract in blood
I'm forever your slave

You're heartless and cold
The Devil, you might be
Yours to torture forever
Just don't ever leave
To the deepest of pits
You just take me and throw
From the world I am absent
So far down below
Other people prefer
To Hell travel than know
But for me I'd give all
Please just don't ever go

Thank you CJ for your poetic comment that inspired me to write this additional epilogue  =^)

Written: June 14, 2018
[epilogue written: April 25, 2019]

All rights reserved.
[Amphibrachic Hexameter format]
ExulSolus Jun 2018
This evening, I am alone, and yet I am not;
Within this barren mansion, no raven to spot.
For the price of solace is solitude,
But this payment can never be made.

“Nevermore!” I mumble in quick succession,
In hopes to ease my growing exasperation;
Yet these words have no such power,
They serve only to torment me, stronger by the hour.

I cut my wrists to forget this pain,
To no avail, only the sheets I stain;
So I gathered them, and burned it all,
The curtains, the pictures, all will fall;
For the flames consume all, save for the feelings,
They crawl.

Homeless, cold, famished but not quite dead yet,
Picked up a torch From the conflagration I’ve set.
Headed north, I depart with pen, paper
And a few pieces of silver.

For I’ve bartered my sanity for a brief respite,
As I walk in these bloodied sandals,
Your profile still in sight.
PoserPersona Jun 2018
Yes, it's seemingly a nonsensical rhetorical question, but, for that precise reason, it will illustrate a lesson, if you so desire to tag along for this short session.

Per Wikipedia, "The horse (Equus ferus caballus) is one of two extant subspecies of Equus ferus. It is an odd-toed ungulate mammal belonging to the taxonomic family Equidae." Hmmm... I much prefer that the horse goes "Nay," eats hay, has a mane, and is ridden by cowboys, cowgirls, Indians, equestrians, knights, jockeys, conquistadors, Mongols, and all. Even better, just point a horse out or otherwise show a picture to a kid and they will never be mistaken again. Even the littlest ones will never be stumped when faced with a rhino, tiger, giraffe, camel, and such.

Admittedly, there is a worry that we could be fooled with that of a donkey or mule. How come no one has taken advantage of this?! What a scam to get us rich! "Duh doy," you say, cause we all know when we see a horse, so why would anyone try to trick us with an ***?! Well I ask you in turn, why does anyone try to trick us with good art versus bad, let alone art versus crap? How could anyone fall for that?!
Bee Jun 2018
Cries pleading out in the dark,
New fears beginning to embark.
Goosebumps rising, sweat dripping,
Anxiety inside, fastly crippling.

Trying so hard to conceal,
All these fears I have to feel.
Faking all those laughs and smiles,
My thoughts so far, miles and miles.

Staring blankly, zoning out,
Positiveness I've started to doubt.
Missed the count of sleepness nights,
Feeling so alone when the pain bites.

Hearing whispers through out the night,
Looking around, no one in sight.
Shivers sent down my spine,
Having the feeling that I'll never be fine.
Amy Perry Jun 2018
I've found myself on the razor's edge,
Like a figure skater.
I skate through life,
Avoiding hazards with grace,
Holding my head up high,
And spinning out of control
Once in a while,
Only to collect myself
In poised determination
And a flick of the wrist,
Brushing the worries away.
Tøast May 2018
Well don't you know girl,
You're a wonder of this world.
A butterfly's wing wrapped around mountain ranges.
Dancing like lillies on lakes of sunset kisses and morning hugs.
Trapped in the maze of half cooked poems, imagery and pain,
I can't get you off my mind, but I'm really not complaining.
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