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Lewis Carroll,
The numbers were driving him insane.

George Orwell,
His family didn't know yet.

Mark Twain,
A childhood on the rivers.

A pseudonym is a weapon like no other.
Amaisha 5d
Once there was
A sharpshooter who knew
not where to aim

And once there lay
A gracious prince
wronged by his own game

His Kingdom had fallen &
his loved ones cried mutiny
Run they did so feverishly
to any hope of a cure

A cure to mend his weaknesses
A way to cover up his shame
shame he'd brought his family
those who'd stripped him of faithç

And so the thuggish soul walked up boldy
hands place tightly on his gun
he offered the prince sweet symphony
promised him salvation from his damaged grace

They rode on waves of chaos
and drank from jars of bottled love
they sought solace in one another
and greeted life's velvet gloves

The prince's past still haunting
yet its daggers long forgotten
Down rabbit holes they wondered
far from safety they now both stood

It's been spoken through sheltered folktales
that no weapon of the heart can shoot gracefully
without an aim being placed

and so the gunman soon realised
his bullets now longed
for the prince's troubled face
Inspiration from the Six of Crows duo logy (Wylan and Jesper)
Ben Estrada Jan 21
The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant,
it is what you do with the gift of life that determines
who you are.
Thorns Dec 2018
It's a weapon
It's the truth
It's a lie
It's a reason why
You should stay alive
To write your poems
To write your stories
To write
Show us what's in your heart
So we can help
So we can write something to help
That's the pen's job
To write
To help
The pen
A pen that writes it's sorrows, will never run out of ink.-Thorns
Udit Vashishth Nov 2018
Don't get your hopes high.
Don't fall for the same lie.
Remember the past
How long did it last?
Fair and square
You're a horse with no mare.
So, run and run like you've never run before.
You are on your own you need no one to adore.
Fall and rise.
You've paid the price.
Burn the midnight oil.
With your sweat, irrigate the soil.
Open up the cage.
Let roar your rage.
Don't sit in a corner like a coward.
Let your determination be your sword.
Enough of sobbing, wipe off your tears.
Get your bow ready and so does your spears.
Rise before the sun.
Believe that you're the one.
It's time to pick yourself up.
(Look in the mirror and say that to your face) -
"I'll never give up"
It's time to rise. It's time to reach the infinite or maybe beyond that.
A Nov 2018
"You're nothing but cannon fodder,"
He sneers,
"You weren't made to love, sweetie.
You were made to ****.
To hurt.
To die.
And there is absolutely nothing that can change that."
Part One.
May Elizabeth Nov 2018
Take off your slippers
With your feet,
Your greatest weapon.
Elicia Hurst Oct 2018
Master Blacksmith, I would like to commission a weapon most formidable. The mere mention of its legendary name shall strike fear in my foes.

{ In Hephaestus’ name, I craft you this }

So I will hone your heart,
Set fire to your lungs,
And conquer all your unanswered prayers
Into a battle roar.

I will boil these tears.  
A stinging, blinding pool at the bay of your eyes,
Use them for crystal clarity,
To sharpen the mind like a whetstone.

I will forge a sword from your fury,
And the hate of your enemies.
Temper it with thunder,
Cut a path out of illusions.

But not before this:
I crush your spirit a thousand times,
Force you to your knees.  
I will show no mercy on your soul —
Not even if you beg for it —
Bleed it, wring the daylight out of it.
To your despair, growth is the cruelest devil,
And I its most loyal advocate.

But in time you will learn Strength,
And to heal;  
Through the growing pains and screams
Mend all broken bones,
Stitch up all the open wounds.
Dripping, drilling, stilling.
You will, you will, at your will,
Lace together the miracle, the magum opus: Your undefeated self.

No comfort or ease lies in death.  
But all phoenix bathe in flame and ash.
Selves and egos, they died for you to live
— So live!
Dance on its grave with manic abandon.
Honor it with your new life.
Transcend it, over and over again.
20 Oct 2018, as a token of strength, for all my soul-crushing pain to come.
Jon Thenes Oct 2018

Attaching honours
and dispatching lives;
So grins the new day
and greets the Great Flaw


The Fusing :
and apply
weapon to wound
(as the weatherman dictates)


Taughtless and young
Fight your way from family
and take oath
with no protest:
A moral clumsiness


We'll sort out that 'population problem'
and lunge out our burrowed lives
in saturation
of our unmended sorrows
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