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Broken soul over and over.
Still expected to be fighting.
No peace at all or sleeping.
It hurts to be a magical demon.

Unable to escape the noises again so a headache and the magic is gone.
Unable to sleep from the discomfort and sounds, bed on its side.
Stuck in pain, stuck in feelings, stuck in thoughts.
Magical magical demon doing the most.
To fight off the ghost.

But nothing matters when everything is wrong so the ghost and ocd can all come triggering me.
Whatever, eat me, break my soul all over again.
Even though I tried to maintain myself in this plan.
Apparently nothing works so let me be a magical demon.

I stare at the moon, standing on a bridge singing.
Somebody tells me not to keep on looking.
Too late, I was already hawling, my eyes were already hurting, head was already burning...

Sometimes when I look back it’s all so magical.
That’s why I’m a magical demon called Syonide because I tried and I tried and I tried.
I just see everything falling and I only hear a young woman screaming.

A young woman who I was never able to save from everything happening.
So it had to be happening cause nothing is fair.
You are such a strong young woman but there’s nothing you and I can do.
Nothing to protect you or me from horror, terror and not being able to live but always be trying, trying, trying, crying, dying but not really, but trying, trying, trusting, caring, breaking, shaking, crying, flickering...

Magical demon taking Syonide.
Trying.
01-09-20
Yenson Jul 19
Group think in unison disarray
morons looking for Camelot in mob's dive
we spoil for mind war but pray lend us our minds
in cloudy storms of magical red rains our brains were washed
to pristine white

Our masters tell us
its a remote affair so show us the moat
we will swim float and jump
masters says its a revolution
we are revved up but spare us the elocution

Some are saying this is mindless but we could not care less
though those wenches were careless
when they stole from the Moor
who was not from the moors in North York

A bright spark said its a vendetta of thieves
they cut of his tongue and said his brains had not
been washed proper
that he was calling a ***** a *****
yet the masters had taken our pitchforks and cudgels away
them dumb masters keeps on saying remote remote
and then control, control, then, power, power

now if you ask me fellow hicks in unison
this really is no time for **** roll
neither is it a time to go to the moat, what's it with this re moat
then they say its tower, tower
in Cromwells' name
are we being told to go via the moat for a **** roll in the tower
don't blame me they washed my brains a while ago.....
SATIRE.....What's wrong with you, have you lost your sense of humour, When asinine s say they are doing heads in, does that not make you roll on the floor in helpless mirth. Lighten up man, this is serious stuff we're talking about. Though I find it all incredibly hilarious,  people hang themselves when they are given this treatment, this is heavy stuff I have you know!
giving not taking
that's the joy of living
Why don't you take this key and stop taking life so seriously?  
Open the box of surprises, you'll find so many great fun prices.
Careful but not too careful,  and life won't be hard but never dull.
Stupid old soul taking life way too seriously, why why?
Haven't you learned it's all a fun try try?
Oh what a relaxing fun surprise.
If you don't take it seriously it can be a little nice.
Sometimes...
28-05-20
I went down to Lloyd center
Looking for you
But a mouth full of anger
Blocked my view
He took your hand
There in the skating rink
God will give him blood to drink

Saw the two of you leaving
I didn't want to follow behind
But I could see the rest of your evening
Burning in my mind
Sky's black
The moon's pink
God will give him blood to drink

I looked over the railing
The ice was white
On the north-east side
Where I saw you and your boyfriend
On a Friday night
I went mining for gold
I struck pure, fresh zinc
God, God will give him blood to drink
Another one from 1994, off a tape called "Taking the Dative". Later re-released on the Ghana compilation in 1999.
Robby Dec 2019
Fair is never fair
Not when one is a giver
And the other a taker
My point is invalid
My thoughts are not shared
I'll always say it's fine
And you'll just do what you want
Amanda Dec 2019
I let it build up too long again.
The bin is overflowing with stinky garbage and now a simple chore has become a huge ordeal.
If I could regularly dispose of all the toxic negative thoughts accumulated in my brain it would be a relatively easy process.
But I procrastinate until all the insecurities, fears, and anger become too heavy to lift
So I drag the ******* bag behind me as it leaves a trail of stinky slime in it's wake.
I get rotten trash juice all over my hands as I dump all my emotions onto paper.
When it's all taken out and empty and I am exhausted
I put in a new liner and let the trash begin piling up again.
Day 19: Write a poem about writing using a household chore as a metaphor for writing
Donna Sep 2019
The best way to live
life is to live each day and
not plan to far ahead
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