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#sixth
Every dawn is a nexus, / Every twilight is a beckoning; therefore, / Embrace the fickle future / Ensconscing within the sacral oath / Of a thousand words: / These utterances shall envelop you / When upon Triumphal Arcadian Skies / We meet again. / Save your tears, / For love shall reign / From the empyreal aethers above / To the Gaian epidermis of / The Magnanimous Matriarch; moreover, the mellifluous kisses / Of The Sovereign of Songbirds / Will burgeon within, / Will descend upon you as The Holy Dove. / Unfurl your third eye, / See with an indefatigable clarity / All that you were meant to be: / Strong, Wise, Just; / Love; / A luminary fulminating / Radiantly, resplendently upon / The Denizens of the Terrene. / (—Se' lah)
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Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 12:00 AM UTC
The Celestial Swansong (Originally penned on Monday, September 6th, 2021)
Once upon a time, There was a man named tiger, He had a friend who was always with him, A four legged friend, He goes with tiger wherever he went, He has never left tiger feel alone. One day tiger got a new Friend Who can talk with him, be normally like him, So tiger left his four legged friend and gave more attention to his human friend, Days passed fastly, Tiger didn't understand how his four legged friend felt about, Tiger just saw him a when his friend was not available, One day his friend got a new one, so he went. Tiger was standing alone, Thinking what to do next, But someone was still Waiting for him to look at him, Tiger just looked, The four legged friend ran and jumped over him, Again Started a new love story...                      Karthik balaji . A friend without sixth sense, Still they are the best ones.
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May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 4:35 AM UTC
The sixth sense
Even this latter lingering emotionality will vanish somehow, masked behind an affable reflection, but already collapsed into a black hole. 
Bigger and bigger. 
Mastery of nothingness in satisfying myself as mute, stripped leaves observing their art of turning into glow of warmth. 
Autumn’s heredity. 
Fierce hyperbole is Melancholy, remote and severe sixth sense, obsidian monolith in this too mild dimension. 
Melodrama of light is the vacuum of such empirism saturated ad nauseum by the ceaseless delay of the most natural and contemptuous ease.
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
Autumn's heredity
all of these issues never started until i turned adult or that is just when they became more apparent that i can’t handle my own         this all seems like my fault all of these issues never seem to disappear not the crying not the fight inside not the fights outside i don’t know if i’ll ever be ok i just know i’m trying and every single day i wish i was back on the sixth floor all of these issues they never existed up there they were gone and i only had to worry about me
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May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
adulting