httpvyncent Nov 1
Who can be the model for their art?
Who will be the one whose name you can't hear without a start?
Who will rescue the talent of the unseen?
Who will superimpose their face on every screen?
Who will be the hero of the ******?
Who will be the one to stand next to them and hold their hand?
Who can break the whole world down and build it back up stronger?
Who can turn the worst into better and make the best days longer?
Who will refuse the praise and payment of the poor?
Who will take the walls that entrap them and turn them into doors?
Who will be the one to look pain in the eyes and say "You'll deface me no more!"?
Who will make what is rightfully theirs, yours?
Who will be the this uncommon savior?
httpvyncent Sep 26
I believe even the harshest soul can halt his pride the second he finds the lyric that moves him. If he has yet to find such a lyric, I send him a million wishes. Man can walk the earth bearing no harmful disdain from being misunderstood by himself. But to be misunderstood by music is a subdued peril, for the opposing sensation is one of such uncommon savor that a bitter mind may recognize sweetness through senses that didn’t before exist.
httpvyncent Sep 13
Being in love feels
like an illness.
I feel it invading my heart
and making itself at home
without invitation.
I’ve learned that love is
99% chest pains
and happiness costs
an arm and a leg.
No one should have
that much control
over me for
just existing.
It’s not worth it.
It’s not natural.
httpvyncent Sep 13
You know what it means to me when people are annoying?
It means they’re alive and kicking and trying...
To not be annoying is to either be dead or to have given up.
Everyone is annoying in their own way.
It’s a part of a person’s individuality.
It’s beautiful when you can pick out that one little thing about that person that annoys you to your core.
You know, if they were to pass or be harmed bad enough that they can no longer be themselves, you’re going to miss that annoying thing so bad.
People tend to not like change or decline, but constantly complain about the way things are.
Yes, they could be better but they can also be worse.
httpvyncent Sep 13
she writes her most meaningful poetry
as a result of how he hurt her
so deeply, and regretfully so
that these are the conditions
inspiration requires of her
she reads them back from the time
when she still loved him
with nothing short of embarrassment
mixed with vengeance, a sprinkle of reminiscence
a recipe for resistance

he doesn’t know about the talent
she dedicates to him
somewhere he’s finding another girl to betray
or mistaking indulgence for happiness
she wishes it for him if he can find it
but doesn’t regret if it’s a miss
he doesn’t know how lucky he is
she wonders how many girls
are dreaming of his kiss
do they also write about him like this?
httpvyncent Aug 3
you’re trash
just like every other human being on this planet and one day you’re going to die

Congratulations.
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