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She lays down
in bed-sheets red and retreats into her mind
agonizing over answers to questions,
answers she will never find.
This isn’t the first time.

The sun and the moon waltz through the skies
watched through clouded eyes
the pair reminds her how alone she feels inside,
the disconnect that’s in her mind.
It won’t be the last time.

The wind batters her with rain
she is tired, broken… ashamed.
She doesn’t know your name and you don’t know hers,
it’s time for that to change. Loneliness is the bastion of the mind,
don’t look for answers you will never find.
People are so scared
To be themselves
It makes me sad
As I shuffle from side to side
On the concrete walk
Dreaming of pussy
That tastes like pears
And kisses
Listening to psychedelic ramblings
Through inner workings
Of gears we all have
But fail to use....

I see buildings that look the same
Full of goobers doing groupthink things
And the thought comes back that
I am a square peg in a round hole
Never dying to get in
But trying to look like
I'm not up to know good....

It's OK to cry if yer a guy
I do it all the time
And I am not mushed up yet
I still get hard
And can chop wood
Though I don't drink that beer
Because I'm smoking that
Reefer...

Sitting on the grass in City Park
Watching the ducks go by
I know that it doesn't really matter
But I miss her
And if I could
I would tell her
I was sorry.
I live in fantasies that always reveal elaborate truths:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYlCfRiOEhM
Finding it difficult
to find myself able
to have faith in you
anymore.

Every sentence
laced with lies
lost in loathed
lipstick.

There once was a time
where I took your
words as an oath
never to be broken
and thought the
truth never omitted.

Here I lie in the aftermath
shown the truth to be set free
shell shocked and shattered.
Peace 1d
They say as you age, time begins to tick by. Quickly, I've seen the truth of this scary yet unstoppable belief. In this moment, I have the power & ability to make the most out of my time on this Earth. I chose, to live. Shalom

Sincerely,
a servent
City lights
Emulating
Moonlight
Divided highways
Lead foot
Chasing midnight
Accelerated thoughts
Crisp breeze
Rear view mirror hindsight
You deserve better
Than a runaway
Trusting only
Her headlights

© JL Smith
Unconditional love
Amazing journey above
Truth or Lie?
Or just one more catchphrase?
.
Freedom or the Cage
Freedom in a cage
Hard decision  
We have to make
.
Complexity and fluidity
Loving without condition
Behavior versus a feeling
No more restriction
.
Non-attachments
No chains or anchors.
Spread your wings
Start to fly above
I have no idea why I´m writing it.
Luna 1d
You don't need a mask to hide your face,
you don't have to hide your scars.
You don't need all that armor to protect your heart,
you are enough just the way you are.

Your true colors radiate light,
when you let the beauty come from inside.
Your real smile makes your eyes shine bright
and your tears; they will dry.

Nobody's a picture perfect,
so stop wasting your precious time.
Stop painting a picture
and start living your own life.
I sometimes find myself wondering what my life would be like if I hadn't met you. Would I be the person I am now? Would I have more freedom? Would I have less freedom? Would I be happier? Would I be sadder? I tend to think that we are put in certain situations to test our strength and our abilities to either move on or give up, BUT now I'm not so sure... Are we being tested? Are we being watched? Are our lives being planned out as we speak? So many questions and very little answers.  Maybe we are supposed to live the pros and cons of life but maybe I'm just over thinking.
Peace 2d
Let the love engulf,
wash along the shore,
drift from sea to sea,
body to body,
sprinkling down,
& showering the heart,
leaving you,
wide open,
to receive,
what people,
wish to have..

Don't,
love,
if,
you,
never,
plan,
on,

f.a.l.l.i.n.g..
Logan D 2d
If I was a poem
I could tell you my secrets
Without fear of judgement

If I was a poem
I could be ugly
And you would still think I'm beautiful

If I was a poem
My problems would be a source of art
And not painful baggage

If I was a poem
You would actually listen
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