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Yanamari Oct 2018
The relentless
Ingenuine serenades,
Empty
Swirling around my ears
As I try
To encompass
Your entirety,
What energy we share
For your tireless
Unfelt soothsaying
To pile around
Unreceived.

Serenade me,
Whether we share or not,
For I will let peel
The layers of your serenade
And watch
As the energy unveils.
But know that when
Your words are empty,
You should leave.
Because I'm
Beginning to have enough.
The Aura Series: II
Erin Suurkoivu Nov 2017
her shadows
have more weight
than my ghost

in my hands
a basket
full of ripe
plums

they prefer
those bite-sized
cookies with the
******* fortunes

plain language
in which
nothing hums
aviisevil Feb 2015
Young harry was staring down his own ****
When he heard his mom screaming through the walls
"Come down at once, little harry"
He knew it was his moms final wake up call
He stared in the mirror one last of time
And he could see that something was wrong with his eyes
Afraid if he sought too deep he would encounter what he isn't supposed to find
He must remember that sometimes nightmares are but a lie
He crept through the mundane routine of cleaning self
As if making himself pure of the disgust he had in store
Dreaming about saving the world from the ****** monsters
He was sure that if anything - he didn't want to be himself anymore
He touched the prisoners attire put ever so neatly on his bed
Something about the fabric made him wither in rage
Filling all of their disdain and beliefs all day in his head
He couldn't believe he was but a slave at this day and age
Recalling how destiny plays a certain part in deciding ones fate
He'll always have a deep seeded hatred against his faith
For he was born and bred without any control of his
And that if he knows anything - he'll know it was only a mistake
So, putting on the tie and smiling for the first time in weeks
Harry watched his reflection in the mirror change
I hope it's a beautiful day thought he
No one's in the joke yet of what now he had became
.
.
Little birds chatter outside safely in their warm nest
And the newspaper boy dives by the street in a breeze
Warm corpses ready themselves for another day of nothingness
Talking as if they really remember the stories they believe
But little harry had an ace up his sleeve
He wouldn't crawl around like another insect waiting to be crushed
Instead he would light the fire of his agony
And wait as he and his destiny slowly burn to dust
He must be ready before they find out what he has in mind
Nothing scares him more than the shadows he counts all night
There isn't anything that he won't choose to leave behind
For there won't be no tears as he watches it all go out of sight
Everything was perfectly stable till he joined the crowd
And now he has no place to call as his own
He has no clue what that circus is all about
And if he can claim anything - it's that he has no home
Now left only a wanderer in this place of rules and law
He has but forsaken any hope of retribution
Tired of learning their ways and flaws
He has but chalked up his own bearing conclusion
No more shall he bleed for their amusement
Abuse of their power must now come to an end
Cure is sometimes more lethal than prevention
And sometimes it's not easy to differ between a spur and an intent
.
.
Harry had by now walked out of his room and into a hall
And his mother was sitting still by the chair with ketchup in her hair
He assumed she was the reason why he wasn't as tall
And responded by spilling his moms own ketchup everywhere
There wasn't much left of him anyhow either
All but a face peeking through the atrocities of a time-line
As if wallowing in reckoning of the leading piper
It was now that he will claim his moment to shine
Those days of utter torment most difficult to forget
And how easy it was to pretend like someone actually cares
People don't have a clue how lonely it can get
Searching for magic wand that's nowhere
By now his head had cleared of the ills of the pills
And he could sharply respond to the environment he was in
He had but a greater role to now act and fill
A messiah to cleanse everyone of their guilt and sin
So, little young harry put his dads toy in his backpack
And soon he was on his way to carve a lore
Not about to give in to the pain and hurt he must've had
He thought to himself; what a beautiful day to be remembered for.
Notes (optional)

— The End —