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Chris Bev Sep 2015
I'm scared of the musical taste of this generation.
Now I don't need to haste, with this music.
Cuz I know I have the power to abuse this.
But I'll rather be a nuisance.
And setup an intrusion.
Clear up all the pollution.
Cuz the youths minds are polluted.
Caring more about possessions.
As their minds unknowingly possessed.
Magicians got u hypnotized.
And I criticize, every single lie.
**** people who can't sympathize with this generation.
Thoughts of the day while on Twitter
Ironatmosphere Jun 2014
We buy bags and shoes for money that could feed us for weeks
We use Botox and scalpels to fix our imperfections
We never leave the house or the room without checking our reflection
or taking a selfie
We make sure there’s never a hair out of place or a flaw to be seen
We are the lost generation
Our appearances are nothing but shells
But that’s fine
No one ever sees the empty insides
We are the lost generation
We are empty inside
But we don’t care
All we have ever wanted
All we have ever craved
is to be beautiful corpses
and that's all we'll ever be
Nick Kroger May 2014
A hero of war—
That’s what they called him.
They spent themselves
Trying to find words
To give meaning to his death,
But all was lost and all was
Nick Kroger May 2014
His angular head
Hung in glory
For the things he carried
Were not his own.
The cross he carried
Was his father’s story.
He hung upon the
crossbar of deaths row.
“Mother may I, go on and die?
There is nothing left for me.
Nothing!” He bowed his head—
He died.
Nick Kroger May 2014
“Abba! Abba!
Why have you forsaken me?
Abba! Abba!
Why have you traded glory for my death?
Abba! Abba!
The iron hath rusted
The youth hath faded away.
Here outstretched lay I for a stupid war.
If you must father, drive spikes through my hands
Make them spikes of *** to forget about war
Today I have tasted the good wine,
And today I will die as a holy sign.”
Nick Kroger May 2014
Panic set in as he woke up naked on the table.
He looked down his slender leg
to find a stump of yellow and green projections.
His stump was sewn together like a Christmas ham.
Chloroform callbacks reeled into his mind.
Naked, he felt as though a free man.
Here on this table in the dying days
Lay the last breaths of hope in humanity.
Nick Kroger May 2014
Metal protruded from his skull
He felt the war deep in his mind.
No man’s land hugged Georg
With a frigid sense of endearment.
Wrapped in the tendrils of the night,
What good was his wound now?
He was missing pieces,
Waiting for a missing peace.  
God softly called,
“This is the end”
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