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"abnormality" poems
Out of all these poems I've written of love and longing, Out of all these years searching in the sea of people, I still yet to understand how it's possible to have words without a muse I often wonder what it would be like to have a muse without words I believe it would feel suffocating As you choke on all the words you long to exhale within your next breath For a poet to be trapped by words is to be trapped by passion Sometimes my heart swells up so big it walks across a sea of words and sinks into the deepness of the waters Lost among the clearer beats on land An abnormality pushed away from love like an ancient curse buried in my skin One day i'll make it learn to swim rather than let it sink and bathe in sin The question still remains Would it be better to have a muse and feel like drowning, Or to have the the words to accompany the lonely?
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Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
A Poets Muse
Not near-sighted; not far-sighted Just blinded by stupidity By rich inhumanity Lack of love in society Absence of insight; omission of outsight Just censored curiosity Loss of credibility Condemned abnormality Futures foresighted; actions unsighted The past, no punctuality Death by immortality Buried from reality
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May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
Sightless
A widespread condition related to nutrition is lactose intolerance that is in essence the inability to digest and assimilate the milk sugar-lactose-the substrate that is acted upon by lactase- the specific enzyme over a period of time. This may happen suddenly and generally at any age most unexpectedly. Lactose intolerance is caused by the absence of the enzyme lactase that breaks down lactose to the simple sugars- glucose and galactose. The condition may be secondary,  congenital, or developmental. Secondary lactose intolerance invariably has its occurrence related to a gastrointestinal infection and its disappearance is linked to the causative factor’s correction. This type of intolerance- (certainly a nuisance) is reversible if we are a bit careful. Congenital lactose intolerance, an inherited form of intolerance, is a rare genetic  abnormality that one can unearth soon after an infant’s birth. This need not cause any fear as it lasts only half a year. Developmental lactose intolerance also known as primary  intolerance is one wherein the enzyme synthesis is progressively less during childhood and this persists into adulthood. Gita Ashok 24/10/2011, 2 pm
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Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
Lactose Intolerance
My lovely kpop, you inspire me to write. How I love the way you dance, sing and put your heart and soul into your lyrics. Your constantly invading my mind day and through the night, Always dreaming about the wise stories you've told through your music. Let me compare you to a gentle tune? You are more fancy and more amazing. Bright sun heating the blazing month of June, And summertime has the overgrazing. How do I love you? Let me count the ways. I love your songs and personality. Thinking of your astute songs fills my days. My love for you is the congenital abnormality. Now I must away with a chancy heart, Remember my cute words whilst we're apart.
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Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 12:16 AM UTC
kpop.
The blue rain of obscurity Blurs the edges of reality Turns a deluge of insecurity Into fissures of abnormality And disappointed purity that decays the personality
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Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 7:05 AM UTC
Doubt
*death: an abnormality— deep prints left by heavy boots filled with water and washed away by summer’s end. grief: a metal sensation denude of coldness—swelled up again and again from life’s ***** driving deeply.* I suppose you couldn’t help but steal away. you (now endangered ghost) left your trace fossils moted, gray and cold. our memories of you divorced from the mountain’s path— a wound raised higher and higher to a crystal peak where your soul was plucked cleanly out. we built cairns to mark your going and stories to signal your inevitable re-arrival. we welcomed the heavy contact of fire felt in the middle of the chest and watered arches cut beneath the eyelids. we felt the frigidness of lit feet gliding above mountain frost and set forth your eternal journey to the solar eclipse. but somehow we lost your trace fossils frozen in the rock. *where did you go? who found you? why?* these are the questions of extinction of the physical body but the soul is unmatched in its uncertainty. if it exists, it leaves upon time of death and reenters when looked at through shielded glass. *soul: a mountain view, black and polished by an unfurled moon. its brother sun not far behind.*
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Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
the trace fossils of you
The puzzle is never solved. They are looked at and pointed at by children who don't know that we're supposed to pity them. *Oh Son, Oh Daughter they have Autism! Oh, I feel so bad!* The straight jackets and shocks have turned to stares and mocks. They didn't to choose to be born this way a piece of a puzzle that doesn't fit. We look at them and thank God that its not us. Its not me. But the indifference doesn't work. We thank God that its not us. But do we ever feel any empathy? If you could imagine having a retardation never really fully understanding anything A chromosomal abnormality that would affect your whole life forever. Having to be watched always having someone taking care of you you would never have any independence. Autism seemed to be their name "he's Autistic" It wasn't their name. There is much more to them. These people used to be tortured people thought that they had a demon inside of them that we had to get out. What we never realized was that the real demon was us.
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Autism
because we fell in love with the law and fell out of love with ourselves. because the ***** of great minds wear pineapple fatigues in their fathers’ ******* from Judas swallowing 9 bullets to one day being a kid at heart a symptom of some abnormality. Ever get the feeling that you’ll die on a Tuesday? Or one day wake up on their government bed Screaming, “you can blame the French Revolution On silent reading!” watching as three teacups of *** plan war on the asphalt.
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Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
Fried Chicken War of 1812
Overwhelmed by the normality Don't fit in, stuck with abnormality Such a strong fatality To be faced with no personality
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Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 1:13 AM UTC
Outcast
I'm hyper and happy with energy to spare Fast speech, racing mind I spread love everywhere A giant smile is all I bare until a certain darkness fills the air You feel rampant with no good rage Trapped in your sorrows like a rusted shut cage You remind yourself you're not crazy Sometimes you're really happy or just tired and lazy Sometimes you lose feeling in your fingers and toes Like you're in the basement of a coroner raw and exposed Other times, you're on a hamster wheel sweating and racing Feeling your skin turn rubber and chafing I have no control over my emotions and mood And, yes, I know that that's no excuse I come off strong with my opinions and personality Which many think is wonderful or an abnormality I'm seen in different lights because I don't know which one to stand in I'm only myself in my writing and that's the happiest I've been Pen and paper give me the control my chemical imbalance never has I can feel calm and genuine and less of a spazz I'm slowly accepting my past mistakes and reality Mental illness is stigmatized But we need to face our morality Hell! Carrie Fisher was bipolar though we didn't talk about it in that era If she was bipolar then I'm just like Princess Leia
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Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
Like Princess Leia
On the heap, Thou dangle and screech And bedeck, for I seemingly espouse. The anecdotes and myths: Engaged in a mutual pose. There comes the hymn, And the sway and the hum; The abnormality and the deform Halted on a single stance. To dozen of the tokens Whom I prejudged; The prevalence of the chaos That sleeps merely on my tongue. To all the estrangements From which I refrain, Within the bawl of the tantrum, upon the hook of the day. Farewell to all, farewell the haze Farewell the cluster, To the resolution found within a fane; Where rituals confuse, Where the practice becomes a fame. There thou taketh solely, A hymn and an interminable haze. Whats the sense of the ovation When no screen displays A mourning motion For which no motion craves? I sigh, and mumble To which mere consciences giveth To me only, mine solely. His to hear and his, keenly.
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC
The Sway in the Temple
We the Sheeple of the Modern world, in Order to form a more uniform society, establish careers, insure domestic conformity, destroy the uncommon difference, demote the idealistic, and imbed the hatred of abnormality to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this societal law for the Earth and all it's inhabitants.
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Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 11:54 PM UTC
Preamble to the Modern World
Agony of the fantasy, so lazily, with no probability the ecstasy so randomly seen with eyes of atrophy my heart beats so rapidly for the sake of catastrophe so i gallantly step on the travesty of the compatibility i casually see my casualty through eyes of calamity searching so actively for a canopy of rationality my mind thinks abnormality is better than conformity actuality meets versatility or circumstantial amity thinking elaborately not organically, of reality a tapestry so naturally put together differently visually vivid quality is a visible consistency no commonality,  critically crushed by normality
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Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
Agony and Ecstasy
Thanks thespis for another muse anew, Filliping my soul with the spirit of a song, To chant for the young world in these pepperish letters, before my callous eyes on the skull of historical future on my pykitonic torso of I another African pykin, as I finish my coffin for the cadaver of poetry that the law of poetry is a distorting neurosis, neurotic abnormality its baseboard of time giving classical balance for wondrous poetry. Compensatory motivation a charm of its seed, Taking dear eyes from the skull of Demodocos Leaving songfull mouth his legacy for humanity, Warped physique not short of history, Teaching the world to drink in full pyrene spring As hunchbacked dwarfism of Alexander Pope was not in any sense dwarfism of his poetry, nor club foot of Byron in ******* to Maugham Byronic heroism to Europe of yester times, That sired Proust, the Jewish neurotic And Keats the most dwarfish and Wolfe the tallest Of man and woman to the cultural matrix Of Europe, the mother of art, poetry and synaethesia, From which was born Pushkin that took poetry Out of his nymphomaniac heart, to the solace of czars, And Shakespeare the dear thief, luckily converted Childhood kleptomania into royal theatre of King Lear, The parallel of four brothers from the house of Karamazov, Their father; impecunious penny penchant muzhik In the name of Fydor epileptic Dostoyevsky. A lull of the time to escape from world of rent and tax, Gripped nerves of the duo to a new realm of art wherein sensuous glory from ***** and Indian hemp propelled the souls of Coleridge and De Quincey to grandiose highness of poetry in the dreams of ***** bordering on the teutonic greatness of ritualistic breed, poetry that transcended from rotten apples in the writing desk of Fredriech von schiller the begotten son of Germany, writing under the arms of Balzac dressed in monkey clobus, that along with Milton in the lost paradise, gave him swaddles only when the poetic vein of Milton flowed happily from nothing, but from the ritualized autumnal equinox to the spiritual vernal, as Coleridge was in full recondite of marquetry,mosaic and miracles, the miraculous white male sheep, the white ram of Wole Soyinka, that he gave as a gift to Achebe at the last anniversary, evil decoy that become a car which deathly crushed Chinua Achebe down to demise in the catacombs for the law of poetry as abnormal human neurosis an equation of perfect art.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
NEUROTIC LAW OF POETRY
Thanks thespis for another muse anew, Filliping my soul with the spirit of a song, To chant for the young world in these pepperish letters, before my callous eyes on the skull of historical future on my pykitonic torso of I another African pykin, as I finish my coffin for the cadaver of poetry that the law of poetry is a distorting neurosis, neurotic abnormality its baseboard of time giving classical balance for wondrous poetry. Compensatory motivation a charm of its seed, Taking dear eyes from the skull of Demodocos Leaving songfull mouth his legacy for humanity, Warped physique not short of history, Teaching the world to drink in full pyrene spring As hunchbacked dwarfism of Alexander Pope was not in any sense dwarfism of his poetry, nor club foot of Byron in ******* to Maugham Byronic heroism to Europe of yester times, That sired Proust, the Jewish neurotic And Keats the most dwarfish and Wolfe the tallest Of man and woman to the cultural matrix Of Europe, the mother of art, poetry and synaethesia, From which was born Pushkin that took poetry Out of his nymphomaniac heart, to the solace of czars, And Shakespeare the dear thief, luckily converted Childhood kleptomania into royal theatre of King Lear, The parallel of four brothers from the house of Karamazov, Their father; impecunious penny penchant muzhik In the name of Fydor epileptic Dostoyevsky. A lull of the time to escape from world of rent and tax, Gripped nerves of the duo to a new realm of art wherein sensuous glory from ***** and Indian hemp propelled the souls of Coleridge and De Quincey to grandiose highness of poetry in the dreams of ***** bordering on the teutonic greatness of ritualistic breed, poetry that transcended from rotten apples in the writing desk of Fredriech von schiller the begotten son of Germany, writing under the arms of Balzac dressed in monkey clobus, that along with Milton in the lost paradise, gave him swaddles only when the poetic vein of Milton flowed happily from nothing, but from the ritualized autumnal equinox to the spiritual vernal, as Coleridge was in full recondite of marquetry,mosaic and miracles, the miraculous white male sheep, the white ram of Wole Soyinka, that he gave as a gift to Achebe at the last anniversary, evil decoy that become a car which deathly crushed Chinua Achebe down to demise in the catacombs for the law of poetry as abnormal human neurosis an equation of perfect art.
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47
at this very moment in time, I am terrified for the future of the human race I wake up each day and hear things no man should hear and yet each day I wake up and I am assaulted with a world speeding towards the brink of oblivion I have no comment on what is right or wrong, to each man his own has always been the nature of this universe. but on the things we now hold dear: the ignorance the xenophobia the arrogance the paranoia the fear I cannot reconcile them so much hate, has become the norm hate for others, hate for difference, hate for abnormality, hate for normality no one knows the true meaning of love anymore each person walks into the day holding a brandished steel in one hand and a hardened shield in the other nobody knows how to be vulnerable or how to leave the vulnerable be we all act like warriors battling in some unforgiving war yet we are not, we are simple people trying to live simple lives. on this day, nine years ago, a tragedy was struck that the world will never forget on this day, forty-seven years ago, a miracle occurred that only a few have ever noticed on this day, one of these past events blocks out the other hate has eclipsed love and in this moment of time: I am fearful, for the future of humanity
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Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 6:28 AM UTC
a fearful time to live in
She is more than the world will give her credit for simply because it has believed it's overcome her Taking out the odds and making them even but she's an oddity that I believe in See her as she flies her song onto yonder tightrope, balancing every note on thin wire A girl who find life's a three ring thing filled with children, so you might as well have fun as you interact She is something of a wild thing that can't be tamed and a thing whose name I can't seem to think of A wonder in herself by a God who just said "What the heck" and made an angel with technicolor wings Hear each letter as it falls upon the silver page and scribbled in bronze inside her golden notebook The silent river that runs deep careening into life and love, roaring at the end into the sea She is someone who deserves the very best of things, though worst may come, she never lets you down Thinking of most thoughts that go unthunk by highly trained thinkers, thanking the people in her mind Know she sees you passing by and winks with a glance, a chance you'll get before she passes by Wandering to find something which she may not be looking for, a truth inside a door which is key She is not one who will cry over the simplest of things, but when she cries, her eyes unleash a storm So she may be the reason raindrops are falling on my head from a leaking ceiling in my cabin warm Feel each heartbeat as it generates a moment when a silver tear may escape her soul's window She is no ordinary girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, but buries it in hopes something may grow
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Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:55 PM UTC
Abnormality
She is more than the world will give her credit for simply because it has believed it's overcome her Taking out the odds and making them even but she's an oddity that I believe in See her as she flies her song onto yonder tightrope, balancing every note on thin wire A girl who find life's a three ring thing filled with children, so you might as well have fun as you interact She is something of a wild thing that can't be tamed and a thing whose name I can't seem to think of A wonder in herself by a God who just said "What the heck" and made an angel with technicolor wings Hear each letter as it falls upon the silver page and scribbled in bronze inside her golden notebook The silent river that runs deep careening into life and love, roaring at the end into the sea She is someone who deserves the very best of things, though worst may come, she never lets you down Thinking of most thoughts that go unthunk by highly trained thinkers, thanking the people in her mind Know she sees you passing by and winks with a glance, a chance you'll get before she passes by Wandering to find something which she may not be looking for, a truth inside a door which is key She is not one who will cry over the simplest of things, but when she cries, her eyes unleash a storm So she may be the reason raindrops are falling on my head from a leaking ceiling in my cabin warm Feel each heartbeat as it generates a moment when a silver tear may escape her soul's window She is no ordinary girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, but buries it in hopes something may grow
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16
I pull at my hair And scratch at my skin You ask me why I don't even know where to begin The curls in my hair are all wrong The colour orange just doesn’t belong My skin looks all weird colours and mottled The feelings inside I keep up and bottled There is no reason for my depression I find it hard to show my expression I escape into the word of fiction I stay so long it becomes an addiction Being who I am doesn’t conform To what others consider the social norm People who know my sexuality See me as an abnormality I get terrified when in a crowd Everyone just always seems so loud I cling to people like a leach My voice is weak without freedom of speech I wish I could be normal But that would just abnormal I wish I could learn to accept But in that I am so inept
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Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
What I can't accept
Misfit, misshapen, misplaced Not fitting in anywhere I'm a pariah, a loner, a coyote Stalking the fringes of society Never seen, never heard, never felt Only dreamed, and imagined, and feared If only I had a place to be A person to see Maybe Maybe I'll see brighter days ahead And love like a dove I am alone because I am unique I am myself, alone, nobody else A drop in an ocean of faces Yet an ocean in a world of drops Always okay, always broken Never whole, never fractured A contradiction of opposites A unity of abnormality
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Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
Misfit's Hope
I've never been "That girl" That girl who comes out of a realationship. And instantly finds herself in another.. Effortlessly. Like it was destiny. I guess it was just mever destined for me to be "that girl" That girl, who never stops having people confess their love for her That girl who people can't stop talking about, how pretty they are. That girl who can get guys to buy her a drink at the bar. By the pattern of her soft lips and a hair flip. Effortlessly. Like it was destiny. I guess, it was just never destined for me, to be "that girl" That girl who knows how to flirt properly. That girl who can put her makeup on flawlessly That girl who can post a photo to facebook and not find a million insecurities, lurking at the tips of her fingers, as she presses the share button. And i know that i shouldn't let these things define my femininity. I know, that i shouldn't let these things bother me, but.. They do. It's like having a lack of popularity in this world, is seen as an abnormality. It is seen as less than womanly. And i'm always forced to ask myself 'what's wrong, with me?' But maybe it's because i was never destined to be "that girl" Maybe it's because i was destined to be something more! To be that girl who just lives her life. That girl who loves herself for who she is, and doesn't rely on popularity to make herself feel alright. That girl who knows what she wants, and fights until it's her's. That girl, who still has insecurities, but.. At the end of the day just says 'whatever? Because we all know who runs the world' I wanna be that girl.
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
That girl
I've never been "That girl" That girl who comes out of a realationship. And instantly finds herself in another.. Effortlessly. Like it was destiny. I guess it was just mever destined for me to be "that girl" That girl, who never stops having people confess their love for her That girl who people can't stop talking about, how pretty they are. That girl who can get guys to buy her a drink at the bar. By the pattern of her soft lips and a hair flip. Effortlessly. Like it was destiny. I guess, it was just never destined for me, to be "that girl" That girl who knows how to flirt properly. That girl who can put her makeup on flawlessly That girl who can post a photo to facebook and not find a million insecurities, lurking at the tips of her fingers, as she presses the share button. And i know that i shouldn't let these things define my femininity. I know, that i shouldn't let these things bother me, but.. They do. It's like having a lack of popularity in this world, is seen as an abnormality. It is seen as less than womanly. And i'm always forced to ask myself 'what's wrong, with me?' But maybe it's because i was never destined to be "that girl" Maybe it's because i was destined to be something more! To be that girl who just lives her life. That girl who loves herself for who she is, and doesn't rely on popularity to make herself feel alright. That girl who knows what she wants, and fights until it's her's. That girl, who still has insecurities, but.. At the end of the day just says 'whatever? Because we all know who runs the world' I wanna be that girl.
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26
You're transparent, I'm illuminated By your body, striking me dead I was tempted, and I'm washed away By some evil plans, without astray Seeing you as a reward, making things all right But you drained away my inner safe light A simple stream, a water flow A threat for my bloodstream, it's burning low With its fake formation of devil The water transformed and made it reveal Like an appearance of a human being The darkness will begin to strum the string She's a mistress, came up and greet I can notice abnormality in her dorsal teeth Its a fang, used to bite me back She always declares a silent attack Speaking with a husky voice I desire But her deformity was like a face on a fire Overstepping her bounds that made doors shut Making it spoil, leaving a heaven's cut What can I do now? I'm in between that water and my blood The blood that forever be the same The water that will always drag me insane It's a brute energy that wraps around my neck I'm tightly forced, I beheld the wreck Aggressive attitude that can crumble well Nearly I can feel the ambiance of the hell I pray. I'm sorry for messing up I'm escaping. forcing these vines to unwrap I realize even fire-proof can be burned Now I cast my full heart to return Back from a pure white canvass Removing all bad elements from the past I will wash away this water goddess in my mind From now on, I will switch it off behind
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Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 9:55 AM UTC
Water Goddess
Delicacies of darkness, Intricacies of energy; Witches of woe Insinuating that nothing we pass is past, As all beginnings were long since begun. Protecting an abnormality, That would rather be condemned, By self-centered ambition of men. An insanity that turns her right, round again. Now if now only. Living by wick and glee of natural ability. You would come and dare, Old sentimentality and whimsicality, Rampart of myths and misconceptions. To indulge in mischievous play Under the indigo sky, By the light of a spiral of far fire. The journey starts by stealing hearts If only now you would come I should be happy.
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Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 4:39 AM UTC
Covens Conquest
Once upon a time, light and darkness were born Two ancient powers, taking form They possessed every norm Tipping the world upside down Till their masters were created They thought the chaos would be regulated but fools they were For the historic battles were never immortal Hence, giving birth to an abnormality It defied conformity Instead of aversion, A strange pull manifested gravitation... An enticing realization Much like a forbidden love, their kiss hovered between red and mauve. No sooner than it began, the curse set in. a big bang and a continuous dilation banned alienation An agonizing melancholic segregation for a Luna, once a creature of delicate darkness is now a vampire feeding on her lover's light dainty lights into one big stormy fire an existence where they keep shattering each other's presence, and for it to be poetically beautiful, Is their reality.
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Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
The Curse Of The Sun And The Moon
I am paradoxical; an oxymoronic anomaly. all my nightmares are made of daylight, but I’ll still sleep to escape the darkness. I am paradoxical; an absurd abnormality. it’s a chaotic peace, loud with it’s bated breath and bittersweet ring. I am paradoxical; an irregular oddity. my counterparts are contradictory, and I change to chance the possibility that opposites attract. and we’re all just paradoxed; argumentative attractions. there’s no stopping at the end, when the sun is low in the soft red sky. where my nightmares are made of daylight, but I’ll still sleep to escape the darkness.
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Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 9:27 PM UTC
paradoxed
do you know the feeling you get when you're hiding, when you're alone in the darkness of a closet or under your bed or behind a door or in a bush? i get that sense- of loneliness, fear, constant held breath- every time i wake, every time i see people, every time i hear whispers, every time i feel wandering eyes. i feel like i am searched with every step in the open for guilt and abnormality but i am not. or am i? i don't know and i want to know what people think of me. if they hate me, if they love me, why won't they just come out and tell me the honest to god truth!? it drives me insane. and so i'll just keep hiding.
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
hiding