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#avenge
"Tell me, was it hard to die, or harder to be the one who survived?" The air became suffocating , what they see is a foreign place. The ashes spreaded everywhere, the pain is now what they embrace. Confusion and guilt , agony slowly built. Wiping out half of the universe? ...more like half of their universe. Almighty and invincible, kneeled in space almost unbelievable, Witnessed his brother's death, now waiting for the moment when, "The sun will shine on us again". Love in her tears, the pain and her fears, Were to be seen when she was committing her sin, Yet she replayed in her mind, "I just feel you" until she died. They were supposed to be together, till the end of the line, Now he's broken holding the hand of his friend, Who said "Steve?"...and dusted in the plain air. The faithful and patient one, passed the test of the Ancient One, But now he only got the time to say, "There was no other way". He promised to **** her, she loved him more than anything, "Oh man" this reality is cruel, Him already gone and her soul trapped in a stone. Most of them became dust swiftly, But there was one who got the power to fight this briefly, Fell in his arms struglling to stay alive, "I don't wanna go" were the words echoing in the sunlight. Even though the pain is crushing, They won't move on, and this time no more losing, With all the strength and help they've gotten, "Whatever it takes" they'll avenge the fallen. "We are in the endgame now."
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May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 9:59 AM UTC
Half of their universe
Kept hearing the ticktocks, It is time to start my little game Eyed the prey as he talks, Hope he still remembers my name At the dusky street, Where I started what is planned Took him long to accept defeat, Pinned him until he stopped struggling on the land Took my blade and stabbed his orbs Oh, what disgusting views it absorb! These pair of eyes, I despise For it was used to spy on my sister's thighs His sinful hands, I chopped He heard how my sister begged but he never stopped These hands that traveled my sister's pearl, This is what I had witnessed when I was a little girl Lastly, his little shaft I slashed it in half This little thing is the reason why we mourn, For she slaughtered herself with a baby unborn She had commited the unforgivable sin For she was sexually abused at the age of fifteen I stood up to desert the venue, My dear sister, I have venged for you
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Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 1:53 AM UTC
VENGED
She is not going to forget. She is karma.
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Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 4:22 AM UTC
She is Karma
The way, she did to me Is the way I did to her The way, where hearts broke The way, I will never return to The way where Sun used to long last The days spent in the past Still, when thy feeling arises My day neither sets, nor rises
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Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 7:36 AM UTC
Revenge
Let me invade the depth of your body And be ****** with a precious lady I'll slap you with my words And kneeled to me like a lord You'll bow in me till your toe Even though I'm your foe And my sarcasm will be your poison I won't let any caution For you to mind where is your position I'll show you my phantasm To **** you with my sarcasm I'm your virtual poison And I will let you drink my potion I won't give any option Cause that was really my intention
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Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 6:13 AM UTC
" p o i s o n "
You think you're so good? Exploiting someone like that? Having yourself a little fun Don't give a **** if it's bad? Well **** you, you are **** When you hear me come You better run! I can **** you easily without a gun! Send you to the morgue, start saying goodbye The last words you'll say before you die! I hope I'm the one to slit your throat And how's this for a little side-note: I don't even ******* KNOW you!!!
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Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
In Her Name
Share with me Cherie The life you left unwoken Asleep under ice Send me your sweet heart Riddled with self-inflicted Knife wounds I may mend I feel in your words In your thoughts the flesh you sear In hope of sealing And hiding the pain Of existence without love Living from below You are not alone Cherie do not Be afraid Cherie please Do not wait For me
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Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
I see #10
maybe I am bedeviled by thoughts of you everytime my mind slips into the abyss, maybe that's the reason I don't tap into it the way I used to. But If I told you how I felt, it'd get swept under the rug. Suppose my eyes burn behind these creme- thick glasses everytime I see you, suppose I hate the silence and fight the urge to burn my surroundings with the heat behind my eyes. But if I told anyone what I saw, it'd get swept under the rug. Imagine I listen to music and hear your voice, so I claw my headphones out like they were ice seeping into my skull and freezing my cranium with words oh so soothing as a double-edged blade sinking both ends into me, Imagine a tear escaping my eyes, voice raising in a blatant attempt to ease the pain. But If I said a word about what I hear, it'd get...... well, I think you know what'd happen. Lets dig under that rug, four feet by four feet area of infinite emptiness. Half of my life has been hidden in there: emotions, mental, thoughts, pains, lusts, curiosities, questions, intents, past, present and future, all have been hidden under that rug. It's stitches are one with my soul because it has so many of my confessions that it absorbs part of my soul. I trust that rug more than I trust some of the hoes I claimed to trust from day one. I trust that rug more than I trust some of the friends I've had since meeting. That rug has an affinity for gaining people's trusts, like me. That rug produces more positive vibes than power chords produce energy, and yet we wonder why something being swept under the rug is a bad thing. I sweep myself under the rug because I know I'll be safe there. I know that with all the thoughts and emotions I share, that with that safe haven, I am assured. I rest under the rug, I cry under the rug, I sleep under the rug. As it is my home. And I love it's sincere serenity.
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Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
Under The Rug
maybe I am bedeviled by thoughts of you everytime my mind slips into the abyss, maybe that's the reason I don't tap into it the way I used to. But If I told you how I felt, it'd get swept under the rug. Suppose my eyes burn behind these creme- thick glasses everytime I see you, suppose I hate the silence and fight the urge to burn my surroundings with the heat behind my eyes. But if I told anyone what I saw, it'd get swept under the rug. Imagine I listen to music and hear your voice, so I claw my headphones out like they were ice seeping into my skull and freezing my cranium with words oh so soothing as a double-edged blade sinking both ends into me, Imagine a tear escaping my eyes, voice raising in a blatant attempt to ease the pain. But If I said a word about what I hear, it'd get...... well, I think you know what'd happen. Lets dig under that rug, four feet by four feet area of infinite emptiness. Half of my life has been hidden in there: emotions, mental, thoughts, pains, lusts, curiosities, questions, intents, past, present and future, all have been hidden under that rug. It's stitches are one with my soul because it has so many of my confessions that it absorbs part of my soul. I trust that rug more than I trust some of the hoes I claimed to trust from day one. I trust that rug more than I trust some of the friends I've had since meeting. That rug has an affinity for gaining people's trusts, like me. That rug produces more positive vibes than power chords produce energy, and yet we wonder why something being swept under the rug is a bad thing. I sweep myself under the rug because I know I'll be safe there. I know that with all the thoughts and emotions I share, that with that safe haven, I am assured. I rest under the rug, I cry under the rug, I sleep under the rug. As it is my home. And I love it's sincere serenity.
Continue reading...
17
Have I told you dear How in the Summer When Mama Was still here And the Sun God shone Down my shoulders Flowing over My soul How I loved sifting sand Through my fingers Watching the waves Grow nearer How I loved the ripples Lost in my eyes The rushing Those waves The sudden crashing The not knowing The dragging The cold The under water rays Of light beaming A fleeting glimpse Of gold Lost in the depths Forever Until Spit out on scorched shore For air Gasping Exhausted Reality I am here Back here Without you dear Drowning
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Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
Entry: 20th April 1943 (#8)
No emotions. No pains. No love. Just emptiness. Maybe it was heart break, maybe not. But I'm chill with it at first... Then my brain goes numb. and my body quivers in public, me trying to play it off. But I know what it is. My emotions, my anger, my love all coming back to me.
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Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
Resurfacing
You may be right But we all have our own fences don't we,  Cherie? Cherie: a sweet name A dear name For a dearer mind But,  angel There is honor in the flight, you know It is better to have flown Than to be forever grounded It is more noble to have know Than to be eternally  lost In ignorance My battered heart I hope you may mend Dear Cherie But you must tread carefully On this fragile soil Dear friend .... My own name ..... Is Niklas
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Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
Niklas #6
Kind spirit Your letter has saved me Stuffed under These barbed fences Built by those devils And you are my angel My link from the nether Herded like sheep We trudged through the 9th circle Fewer than first started Those souls we left on our way Those souls will become letters Stained with tears and wine But all is grey here My family Where are they? Oh, Mama and Papa Where are you now?
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Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
Hallo #2
If I get to wish upon a rose tonight All I want is to see your golden eyes. I love the way your skin dances in the heat with not an inch of sweat while daunting your perfection. I love the way your eyes glisten as you catch a moonlit grace from heaven, so beautiful you offend the sun. I love the way your body sways as your hips swish when you know I’m watching. You’re too seductive for your own good. But if I could wish for anything, I’d wish for you to drop the act. Take off that **** make-up, your skin’s beautifully dark brown, don’t change it. Get rid of that girdle, dear god those his curve without it. Take off that wig and those fake nails, baby girl, I know your nails look tacky, but your imperfections are perfect so tell me why you need to look like someone else. And of all the things, take out those blue contacts, for though I know the true color is brown, I can’t see the façade when your contacts are out. I can see naught when I stare at you Nothing but your golden eyes.
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
Golden Eyes
I get it, we all have demons, but why is it that yours only taunt me? Why is it that you have to insist on being difficult with me when I’m completely open with you? Why is it that you always say that I do something, but that same thing you say I do is being done? Honestly, you’re just wasting your pride.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
Wasted Pride
My skin is soft and my mind unexperienced. Like cotton right off the stem. And when animosity hits it, I tend to be unprepared for such topics. My body goes through constant cycles of supposed purification Like the separation of the cotton from its seed and the bleaching of its fruit. So when I realize my impurity, I tend to reject myself. For I feel that others would anyways. My blood runs through my organs, and is altered in my heart Like cotton being twisted to threads. I crystalize like cane sugar as it drips off its heat made daggers, and I crush to dust under the weight of every decision that I make.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
Cotton
The feeling of falseness in the eyes of spectators is so apparent that it makes her feel like decoration flowers. Petals glistening with passive aggression as a feature rather than a flaw. Stiff neck as a stem that never shrinks and always flaunts the tantalizing sensitivity of her femininity. Sensuous skirt that wraps around **** legs like two grassy leaves wrapping around a sassy stem. Like a rose, she doesn’t respect time. She is beautiful and wants everyone to know it. But she knows it’s only a face, she knows everything that everyone finds beautiful will wilt away and she won’t be so pretty anymore She knows that her delicate red will grow older and that her body will shrivel. So she replaces it with more false faces. Plastic pieces perpetrating personality. She is no longer a rose. She is a decoration. For though she holds onto it, her beauty has respectively faded. As she is no longer true. She has kept the rosy figure, but the ***** of her life has faded. And that which was beautiful will never be beautiful again. For nobody wants a dusty rose.
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
Dusty Rose
Single relationship I told myself that I’d be a complete social chameleon, said I wouldn’t let anyone dictate what I liked. Turns out they were both lies. I told myself that I’d love me more than anyone else ever could, I said that my strength would be what ran my environment. Guess that wasn’t to be. I itch for a relation but run from relationships. And I hate it so much that it burns like copper coils. It invades my lungs like air and breaks me down like bad *** kids near cardboard boxes. But for some reason I identify with it now, it’s like, I’m intimate with loneliness. I can caress its jagged edged emptiness with the warmth of my fingertips at any given day, and it always responds. I can speak into its bitter silence and feel the echoes reverberate back to my lonesome ears, and it feels like I’m hearing someone else with my voice. I can kiss its luscious darkness and combine with it anytime imaginable, and it makes me feel loved by simply everything. You can call it a wish. You can call it imagination or depression. But regardless of what you think, I’m in a single relation. And I hold hands with it proudly.
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Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
Single Relationship
Yet again I sit on the cold floor, in the dark And I fill my head in darkness. But I’m at peace with the loneliness. In fact it fuels me, gassing me like cars before a long journey into the abyss of loneliness. And I think it’s time I hit the road.
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 12:55 PM UTC
Hit The Road
In truth, I am a Wildman swinging an ax. Where was the tree when I was burying my weapon into the helpless? Why am I still in a hush over the things I shouldn’t even be thinking about? Why do I call myself a poet and why is it that the kind of poems I do are about something that I’ve barely felt. It’s Ironic, isn’t it? My soul dries up as people soak each other in liquid love. My heart burns as people kiss around me. I don’t feel jealousy, just a longing. A longing for that taste that I used to know. A longing for the cuisine of love and all its benefits. For even though I only had a taste of something I considered basic I still hunger for what I had. I still hunger for that flavor
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
Flavor
It’s like my life flashes before I can grip it I think too much about what I try to say, and always end up messing my words up. I can’t fix it. It’s grown on my Growth A product of time. A sapling is born in a soul, that soul is tormented and the sapling struggles for life. But the sapling endures in the freezing temperatures. It knows it will blossom to become a true self-revelation. When will this sapling become a tree? Only time will tell
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Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
Praying for time
How many punches can the human heart take before breaking? How many strikes can there be before a person is down? Maybe she could tell you. She’s a player, and I’m not talking baseball. She plays with hearts, she plays with emotion until the emotion is drained and you are most vulnerable. She is a demon of heaven but a hellion angel. Wonderfully wizardry but her spells send a mind into self-tension. And I have been bewitched. Bewitched by her fragrance, by the taste of her lips, by her mind and what I thought was the real her. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was actually hypnotized by this beauty. Maybe she wasn’t who she was, but I would’ve thought I was who I was supposed to be. Who Am I? Who was she? Where am I in this world of deceit and trickery? A chef of misery, cooking up a fresh batch with every new victim, so sensual yet so senseless The touch of duplicity.
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Duplicity
My heart is still warm when it’s handed back to me I guess it wasn’t enough to guarantee a love. Who knew love would be so expensive. I wish I had some intimacy I wish I had that feeling of decadence again. I just want to feel the love My hands shake too much Spoiled with the spell of calm that came over them when they would grasp a counterpart A counterpart now missing My tongue would savor the taste that stayed on my lips Spoiled by chocolate sweet kisses Kisses now missing My arms used to ache the feeling of someone in between them continuously But now they hang by my side and keep to themselves, lonely. I just miss the security. The luxury of the life I miss the taste of affinity that still bubbles on the cushion of my lips That time when my heart was in decadence.
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Decadent
Every time we talk, this cherry child has me hypnotized Empty eyes and beautiful voice has my mind tingling Itching like my palms. Every time she comes in the room, the air gets colder Leopard-skin lover with a pompous soul and a vicious need for attention I am her mediator, showing the love she desires and cutting through previous facades Calming like my kisses. Every time we lock eyes, this being of wonder gets me star-struck Woman of wonderlust, being of beauty with hips so vibrant as to cause movement Dancing like my footfalls. Sensuous beauty with the world on her back and a lot on her mind Sitting on child swings like kindergarteners and just thinking of her past lives I place my hands over yours as I guide you through the air with each push Swinging like my fingertips. Crazy as it is I’ve made no choices, as the loves I’ve felt were real But there’s something about helping a person who is down Deep conversation turned theory on love turned burden upon burden’s release And when all is said and all is done, there’s nothing left to do but listen to the music of us two. Sitting on the swings listening to the rhythm of the air, my love, I must choose you. For no other can offer the sweet satisfaction of watching a young bird soar through the skies and be her wings, no other can offer the kiss of one who’s done it least, no other can show such truth. So I’ll always cherish those talks on the swing-set and the problems uncovered as we chatted the day to dusk. Steady pushing you higher and higher, letting you escape the hell and tears and lifting you. Ever Swinging like my fingertips
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
Swinging Like My Finger Tips
Every time we talk, this cherry child has me hypnotized Empty eyes and beautiful voice has my mind tingling Itching like my palms. Every time she comes in the room, the air gets colder Leopard-skin lover with a pompous soul and a vicious need for attention I am her mediator, showing the love she desires and cutting through previous facades Calming like my kisses. Every time we lock eyes, this being of wonder gets me star-struck Woman of wonderlust, being of beauty with hips so vibrant as to cause movement Dancing like my footfalls. Sensuous beauty with the world on her back and a lot on her mind Sitting on child swings like kindergarteners and just thinking of her past lives I place my hands over yours as I guide you through the air with each push Swinging like my fingertips. Crazy as it is I’ve made no choices, as the loves I’ve felt were real But there’s something about helping a person who is down Deep conversation turned theory on love turned burden upon burden’s release And when all is said and all is done, there’s nothing left to do but listen to the music of us two. Sitting on the swings listening to the rhythm of the air, my love, I must choose you. For no other can offer the sweet satisfaction of watching a young bird soar through the skies and be her wings, no other can offer the kiss of one who’s done it least, no other can show such truth. So I’ll always cherish those talks on the swing-set and the problems uncovered as we chatted the day to dusk. Steady pushing you higher and higher, letting you escape the hell and tears and lifting you. Ever Swinging like my fingertips
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23
Heartache Of Rescue I save so many souls on a daily that I forget about my own. But I’m sick of saving hearts. Only time can tell how long it is before the knight in shining armor is saved by a princess. And maybe on that day, my heart will be spared as a token of gratitude Rather than a practice for abusers.
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
Heartache Of Rescue
my wishes of clarity aren’t answered in time, I am in a state of longing. I am a drizzle. My mind is full of fantasies. My heart full of accidental burdens. I am now the rain. It won’t clear, I still feel that longing, It begins loathing in my heart. My rain pours and I turn into a storm. A being formed on the verge of insanity and off the coast of tornadic, and a mind on the verge of chaotic. I calm. Leaves falling to the ground as my unforgiving rains relent. But it is merely momentary. For the thoughts always return. The rains pour as my mind clouds, the winds rise as my heart sinks. My eyes water as the thoughts circle around and around in my consciousness. I am a hurricane Let me whine on my via dolorosa.
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Hurricane After The Storm