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What's there in a prayer?
Just to fall prey to His will
When you fail to use your skills
The Limitless limits your strength
Your deeds make you repent
You wish to escape punishment
Simon Jul 13
Excitement is like an obsession! If taken for the abundance type of a seriousness going OVER someone’s own limits, that is… Then you’d have something of a problem to say the least… Problems that govern different types of obsessions from totally overshadowing something that was just supposed to be the time of a GREAT “excitement” to come! But what do we say about something becoming merely “overexcited” …? Easy. But simplified for ALL “hearts content”. Is that you start to lose yourself in whatever event this very excitement is “legitimately” taken from. And just as there’s different types of excitement, there’s also even more different types of obsessions. One I know VERY WELL…. Because I simply have it. It’s what’s known as "obsessive compulsive disorder" (OCD)!
Poem about how excitement itself is like an obsession. Therefore, it could be either mistaken, or fully taken as OCD itself.
PS... Entirely depends on your actions!
Asominate May 16
I'm trying to do nothing
Lest I do something
That I'll regret.

I'm under pain and pressure,
Know not the measure
And it makes you upset.

Maintaining my functions
Lest I malfunction
And blood spills

If you keep pushing me
I will.
MerlieJ Apr 23
Have you ever been so high.. touched the true colors...
...of our sky..
..pinks, reds, oranges, a mass...
Soaring without regard
Your greatest peak.
Bryce Frye Apr 15
There are days where I am high upon a dusk cloud
And rustic skylines bleed into bare trees

There are days where I bleed into white sheets
And I never leave the the lights on

There are days, and then more days
And minutes within smiles,
seconds ticking laughter, half assed conversation among fruitful hallways

Strawberry girl smiles and she would hate that I called her that
And maybe she would hit me and maybe I’m an *******, and maybe I’m a baby

And I’m a baby.

I remember not knowing I could die, not ever thinking about my heart, not ever waisting any time.
I should be that way now,
And yet as clocks continue to tick I just hum along in the warmth
So sometimes days become weeks
But sometimes days are just too short
And some days I am just to short
For the heights  I want to reach

I remember jumping had a different connotation when I was a kid...
High above in the clock tower
Was a child who misbehaved
Father time grew impatient
She was too difficult to persuade

For she was raised with no limits
Adopting such a life unafraid
Strolling into the timekeeper's tower
Assuming there was no price to be paid

The clock's hands restrained her
Every tic was a step she couldn't take
She was bounded by time by the hour
Creating yet another clockwork slave

The clock's hands became her cuffs
Its numbers turned all the same
To be used as the metal bars
For the finishing touches of her cage

Tamed by routines and muted by alarms
Wondering how long she had left to stay
In this fragile world that was so reliant
To act only upon the specific time of day

She missed her colourful beginnings
Free from a life that continued to age
Time stood still while she wandered
To wherever her heart was swayed

Seconds would turn into hours
Of aimless mere child's play
Were moments she took for granted
And memories she had misplaced

One day she took time into her hands
She reversed the roles to his dismay
Father time's parental grip on her
Could no longer be sustained

For she was a timeless artist
Who could not stay restrained
Whose artwork cannot be lost
In the past or the present day

Her poetic words reside in the minds
Passing generations everyday
Painting moments to only those
Who allow their hearts to give way

She became immortal through her legacy
On the path that she had paved
Making home in the artistic thoughts
Of every artist that was led astray
You're only as free
As you allow yourself to be
And I kept holding myself back

I kept building a cage
In every life stage
Imitating what I knew were facts

Because where I belonged
Was in between four walls
To make up for what I lacked

I couldn't handle the outside
My own potential was denied
It was best for me not to overreact

Head held high with a stern gaze
Always keeping a royal face
Every movement was a graceful act

Poised and perfect I shall be
For one day I will be free
Maintain composure before I attack
The Watch
by Michael R. Burch

Moonlight spills
down vacant sills,
illuminates an empty bed.

Dreams lie in crates.
One hand creates
wan silver circles, left unread

by its companion—unmoved now
by anything that lies ahead.

I watch the minutes
test the limits
of ornamental movement here,

where once another
hand would hover.
Each circuit—incomplete. So dear,

so precious, so precise, the touch
of hands that wait, yet ask so much.

Published by The Lyric, Carnelian, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry on Demand, Famous Poets and Poems,  ImageNation (UK). Keywords/Tags: watch, hands, watching, time, movement, circles, cycles, circuits, minutes, limits, wait, waiting, death, incomplete, reunion, companion, ahead, night, bed, moonlight, crates
VKBoy Feb 28
Like every *** has a limit
So does every existing heart
As to the weight of emotions
It can carelessly contain.
So let not the *** overflow
Or the heart over bloats.
Do often share sums of it
With the hearts that lack it
Or you’ll fail to handle
The hurdles God throws.
Euphrosyne Feb 22
Love, are you willing to go outside your own limit? Or you just wanted to show off your false decisions?
Just to remind you before I decided to confess it was outside of my box so do not hide at your circle and then tell everybody that I'm just another man with the same plan to break your heart.
More of a thought.
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