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#gameshow
Late night game shows droning on Frozen pizza boxes on the counter Eyes fixated on that glowing screen Communication has come to a halt Is this all we're living for? Homework scattered on the bedroom floor Laying in bed and sleeping till 1 Never seeing the light of day Is this all we're living for? Let's make a new beginning You and I Where the birds still sing And we watch the sun rise Let's step outside of our comfort zones Before loneliness eats us up Take away the materialistic dream of the world And create our own masterpiece
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Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Under the Eye
I once heard that there are two kinds of love. The first kind is the kind from the movies, the songs, the Shakespearian sonnets, the red-wine-induced conversations; it is the magnanimous amorous empowering love that makes you lose your breath and stumble across your words until you fall so hard you float back to the sky, so emboldened you could conquer the world in one fell swoop and inspire hope in the most hopeless. The second kind is the opposite of empowering for it is devouring, cowering, manipulative, cold, and a road paved with adoring anguish as you pour all of your bloated heart into a desperate wish. I've become exhausted by door number two and sit on the lip of a hope and a prayer that door number one opens for me before I quit the games(how).
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Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
What's Behind Door Number Three?