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"agonize" poems
My name is Taylor and I have a tooth that tucks behind one of my front teeth. I say this as my first sentence because when I look at myself in the mirror and smile, that is the first thing I notice. But a compliment I've heard more times than once, "You have a beautiful smile." I  wonder how many things in life are like that... Qualities or characteristics that people agonize over are the very things that others appreciate and admire.
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Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 7:48 AM UTC
Crooked
I can no longer disguise Contempt in my eyes The lows and the highs It is you I despise Heart no longer complies While your heart denies It’s me you chastise Deceitful demise There’s no compromise I agonize While you apologize But my love I surmise It’s fossilized And I've normalized What you’ve minimized Gone are my cries I’m numb from your lies Like this I will die
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Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 9:35 PM UTC
Lies
Honesty: The quality of being honest Look at me directly in the eyes Before you lie When you agonize And dramatize I will analyze And I will realize And Recognize I will not empathize I will brutalize So I would not jeopardize Integrity: The quality of being honest and having strong moral principles With dignity Empathy Without enemies Ethically No jealousy Purity Seeing objectively Respectively Never causing unpleasantries The two go hand and hand Not Separately !!
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Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
Honesty and Integrity
Monica, she said her name was. Of course I didn't believe her, but it wasn't important. What was important, when she met me with a cheery professional smile at the window in the waiting room of Anfu Massage, was that she was willing to take me by the hand and lead me down the very dim corridor into a dimly lit room with a bed where she and I shared an hour of ****** pleasure. She made me feel like a great lover and gave me her best imitation of passion so skillfully that I believed, because I wanted to, for that hour that I was making love to my lover. I used to agonize and feel guilty about it, but in this solitary autumnal season of my life, haunted by the ghosts of loves lost, I am grateful for even this sweet counterfeit. And, yes I revel in her gentle feminine warmth, her softness, and in the primal connection we make. Somehow, it feels like it is keeping my heart alive.
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Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 8:28 PM UTC
An Hour of ****** Pleasure
Grasping the wisps of dreams Longing for the scent of hope Chasing the ghost of whims Gray clouds storm in as dreams shatter the shards of glass cutting deep with only pain as my friend. No blood. Just the numbing pain, until I can no longer feel The dull pain of what was or what could have been. Fighting that will to scream or to agonize. To fall on the ground for a demon To imagine anything from then Would that be weak? To chase a ghost. To chase the wisps of dreams. To long for smoke. y.k.
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
smoke
Down in the depths of the hole, there's no sound but the beat of my heart And my dark charred thoughts That drip like black oil That everything it touch's, it stains and soils Thoughts of death and gruesome memories From them there is no where to flee So I lay in the bed curled into a tight ball Just waiting to hit the bottom of the fall There is no one to talk to, no one to call No one knows how this inky darkness flows How it consumes the soul and continues to grow I'm imprisoned in theses bones, this skin Is this how the end begins I've prayed for love and light But I've only been given glimpses of that site Any happiness I have fought for is snatched away In just a short few days So now I pray For death and a shortening of my years To live a long agonize life is my fears Not one month goes by that tragedy doesn't strike It's like trying to get through life on a trike You pedal really really hard but get no where To tell the truth I just don't care I want to become totally unaware
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Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
Thoughts Like Oil
"Not good enough." "Your annoying." "Don't be a ***** up." "Do it or end up a failure." To them they are words. To me they are a gunshot, To my brain, To my heart. Meaningless nonsense to others Is an all too real battle cry to me. I hear the cannons in my head. I panic, So I run. And I never stop. I cry, I scream, I hurt, I hit, Until I can't run anymore. Until I fall and fail. "You should be nervous." "This does not cut it." "God, your slow." "Didn't meet my expectations." If they are meaningless to you Why aren't they meaningless to me? I've been stabbed with a sword And the commands cry out, "Do Something, Your Pathetic!" I hear the cannons in my head. I panic, So I run. And I Never Stop. I bleed, I sob, I agonize, I grieve, Until I can't run anymore. Until I fall and fail. I may fall, But I never stop, No rest. The cannons are never too far away to hear. So I pick myself up once more. I am a one man army. So I run. And I Never Stop.
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
Worry is a War
The Pill Called up big Pharma, Sad and depressed, I told them straight out: Dudes, I need a new karma. *NO problem they cheerfully replied, (later I wondered, which pill they were on) We custom make, haute couture, drug-design, Mood enhancers, in little canisters, You need only supply the cash and the system vascular! Your soul's desire? To be a better wilder, rambler, Or a life calmer, better anchored?* I know what I want, exactly, A pill that removes Specific words From the frontal lobe temple Verbal storage center. *NO problem! (so cheery it was kinda scary) Which words would you like to have Exorcised, annihilated, irradiated, confiscated?* I list from below, from side to side, Let not one be denied, Bury them all in nether-lands, Swamp them under mountains of Granite and sand, Banish them from my lexicon. How much do you charge? But one dollar per word. The list I emailed complete, Herein I reprint. Scars Pain Wound Strain Torture Anguish Disfigure Damage Mar Mutilate Maim Blemish Deface Damage Ruin Distress Afflict Trouble Wound Torment Agonize Sad Suffer Sting Throb Torture Torment Despair Suffer Distress Hurt Vex Trouble Ache Hurt Misery Woe Bitterness Misery Agony Bitter Heartache Afflict Hurt Cut Loathing Shatter Broken Alone Bleed Struggle Self-destruct Monster Nightmare Cornered Darkness Horror Loner Confused Goodbye Suicide Slash Cut Desolate Submerge Dissipate Dead Stinking Enough. Awaiting my concoction sweet, When an answer they begat, A response forthcoming, indeed was snubbing! **Dear Sir/Madam, We regret to inform you that we are unable to manufacture Said item.  Removal of these words would be a violation of Federal Poetry Laws. Sadly yours, Big Pharma P.S. Are you the author of "Yo! Yo! Warning: the government is reading your poetry! (Metadata Mining This Site) on HP?"** P.P.S.  Please do not contact us anymore.
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Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
The Pill
The Pill Called up big Pharma, Sad and depressed, I told them straight out: Dudes, I need a new karma. *NO problem they cheerfully replied, (later I wondered, which pill they were on) We custom make, haute couture, drug-design, Mood enhancers, in little canisters, You need only supply the cash and the system vascular! Your soul's desire? To be a better wilder, rambler, Or a life calmer, better anchored?* I know what I want, exactly, A pill that removes Specific words From the frontal lobe temple Verbal storage center. *NO problem! (so cheery it was kinda scary) Which words would you like to have Exorcised, annihilated, irradiated, confiscated?* I list from below, from side to side, Let not one be denied, Bury them all in nether-lands, Swamp them under mountains of Granite and sand, Banish them from my lexicon. How much do you charge? But one dollar per word. The list I emailed complete, Herein I reprint. Scars Pain Wound Strain Torture Anguish Disfigure Damage Mar Mutilate Maim Blemish Deface Damage Ruin Distress Afflict Trouble Wound Torment Agonize Sad Suffer Sting Throb Torture Torment Despair Suffer Distress Hurt Vex Trouble Ache Hurt Misery Woe Bitterness Misery Agony Bitter Heartache Afflict Hurt Cut Loathing Shatter Broken Alone Bleed Struggle Self-destruct Monster Nightmare Cornered Darkness Horror Loner Confused Goodbye Suicide Slash Cut Desolate Submerge Dissipate Dead Stinking Enough. Awaiting my concoction sweet, When an answer they begat, A response forthcoming, indeed was snubbing! **Dear Sir/Madam, We regret to inform you that we are unable to manufacture Said item.  Removal of these words would be a violation of Federal Poetry Laws. Sadly yours, Big Pharma P.S. Are you the author of "Yo! Yo! Warning: the government is reading your poetry! (Metadata Mining This Site) on HP?"** P.P.S.  Please do not contact us anymore.
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I have a problem, you see. I own objects like blankets I cannot sleep without, Headphones 4 inches thick To cancel the noises that Wake up every nerve in my body That make me shake and bite my nails I own stubs for fingers With cuts and chewed skin. They run across my forehead To stop the thoughts from occurring. I count, Correct the other side When someone touches my skin. I make sure every first letter In the next line of poetry Is capitalized, Cause that's a rule. I agonize over small things Because as a kid, No one helped me. I was too nervous to play in the hose Or turn on the shower Because my family would drown. The ritual began even then. At 6 I could not play baseball Because in the outfield I would tic and make my nose bleed. I can't even breathe without Bothering this disease. One lung does not fill up like the other, And I get dizzy. I have a scar on my forehead From completing this ritual for years. I fear And feel. Why do I fall victim to this disease? God, I would pray but my hands can hardly Touch each other without the horrible feeling.
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:33 PM UTC
OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER - The Slam Confessions pt.1
Precious gem, Gleaming so gallantly. Streaming light into streets. Luminescent gem, Containing Dragon souls. Shining on her neck, Breathing fire down on the world. Precious gem, Agonize thy souls. Never to be free again. In this human world.
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
Precious Gem
people like you, sir, agonize my feminist sensibilities.
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May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC
a haiku for ignorant ******** like you
Oh how a rotted home aches. Floorboards agonize, their faces betray a life's frozen mirth. A shattered window, caked in cobweb calls to her daughter in the wind. Footprints erased by dust. Photographs wilted and grey. Oh how a rotted home aches.
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Apr 16, 2022
Apr 16, 2022 at 1:53 AM UTC
Mildew and Rust
When a friend forgets, the world crashes around you. When a friend forgets, you feel despair brew. When a friend forgets, joy into sorrow turns. When a friend forgets, your insides agonize and burn. When a friend forgets, Life seems unfair. When a friend forgets, you no longer can bear. For it was that very friend, whose shoulder was yours, to cry on. That very friend who made dusk seem like dawn. That very friend who held your hand. The very friend who helped you float to land. From the very depths of distress the one who helped overcome all stress. Today that support, my sole strength is amiss. What can I do to try and erase this? All I can do is hope and pray while trying my best to keep the tears at bay.
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Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
When a friend forgets...
I try to act like my ideal. That guy I want to be in my head. But no one tells that guy that walking along alone hurts more than anything. That not caring about what people think about me makes me care so much more. That now that I have a perfect person to be like, anything less makes me feel worse. My ideal me, what a concept. I wonder if he agonizes over everything his friends say. Does he agonize over being alone? Seeing all his friends start to get into relationships and be happy? Seeing all his friends leave together leaving him to fight university alone? Does he know that that decision was his fault? Does he even care? Why would he. I'm the shadow of a great man, if only in my head.
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Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
The man with the blue scarf
The streets, plain The scenery, new but unchanged The city, now black and white The candle that failed to ignite The crisp morning air The usual affairs The same unheated ground Then there was a faint sound The leaves started to sway There was a presence of warm sun rays The grass and flowers danced The prospect, enhanced All because my ears have found A vaguely familiar and new sound An enamoring explosion of melody An enthralling harmony A beguiling musicality An enslaving euphony A perfect array of notes Flowing with a hypnotic coat A piercing tune Resembling a rune It's rhythm, throbbing It's tempo, moving The sound was too perfect and strong That it seemed like a torturous song Nonetheless, it was a beautiful beat Beautiful enough to move my feet What I heard was an alluring sound That eventually made me slide through the ground I closed my eyes and followed what I heard Walking, searching, to clarify the blurred The faint sound, grew louder Eventually I was overpowered While seeking for the source of the hymn I turned into a willing victim My feet have stopped moving When I saw a man, the man who was playing My eyes settled upon his silhouette Which was in contrast to the sunset There he was, sitting on a wooden stool Unknowingly making all the listeners drool His fingers fluttering atop black and white keys Creating color through a musical breeze I saw him, that man Still playing, talking through his hands I followed a sound and saw a pianist And then my heart was kissed Not because of the music that made my ears fuss Not because he splashed paint all over the dull canvas But because of how he looked at the instrument It's as if, for the piano, his eyes were meant How he gazed upon it with those eyes As if the piano was his only prize How he goggled the piano with those eyes As if for that instrument he was willing to agonize As if he can only see the piano As if there was only him and the piano It was that look that little girls dream of It was that look that symbolized love That look that little girls wished were for them That look that would give little girls contemn That look that was only for the piano That look that was pure as snow That look was colorful and honestly warm That look that entrapped a celestial swarm That look which was gentle and intense That look which was passionate and immense That look which was alive, painful and afraid In that moment, I longed for a shooting star's aid As if a little girl, I wished for what little girls wish for I wished for him to look at me like that, nothing more But none can compare with his instrument Nor to the reason why he plays it with such intent To the new girl he plays for To the girl he currently adores I hope his sound reaches you I hope you listen and give him value I hope you look at him as he plays for you Look at him like how he looks at the piano when he thinks of you Like how the crowd looks at him as he plays like this Like how the little girls look like when they wish Like how he used to look at the piano When he misses and plays for the little girl, not too long ago
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
Nostalgia
The streets, plain The scenery, new but unchanged The city, now black and white The candle that failed to ignite The crisp morning air The usual affairs The same unheated ground Then there was a faint sound The leaves started to sway There was a presence of warm sun rays The grass and flowers danced The prospect, enhanced All because my ears have found A vaguely familiar and new sound An enamoring explosion of melody An enthralling harmony A beguiling musicality An enslaving euphony A perfect array of notes Flowing with a hypnotic coat A piercing tune Resembling a rune It's rhythm, throbbing It's tempo, moving The sound was too perfect and strong That it seemed like a torturous song Nonetheless, it was a beautiful beat Beautiful enough to move my feet What I heard was an alluring sound That eventually made me slide through the ground I closed my eyes and followed what I heard Walking, searching, to clarify the blurred The faint sound, grew louder Eventually I was overpowered While seeking for the source of the hymn I turned into a willing victim My feet have stopped moving When I saw a man, the man who was playing My eyes settled upon his silhouette Which was in contrast to the sunset There he was, sitting on a wooden stool Unknowingly making all the listeners drool His fingers fluttering atop black and white keys Creating color through a musical breeze I saw him, that man Still playing, talking through his hands I followed a sound and saw a pianist And then my heart was kissed Not because of the music that made my ears fuss Not because he splashed paint all over the dull canvas But because of how he looked at the instrument It's as if, for the piano, his eyes were meant How he gazed upon it with those eyes As if the piano was his only prize How he goggled the piano with those eyes As if for that instrument he was willing to agonize As if he can only see the piano As if there was only him and the piano It was that look that little girls dream of It was that look that symbolized love That look that little girls wished were for them That look that would give little girls contemn That look that was only for the piano That look that was pure as snow That look was colorful and honestly warm That look that entrapped a celestial swarm That look which was gentle and intense That look which was passionate and immense That look which was alive, painful and afraid In that moment, I longed for a shooting star's aid As if a little girl, I wished for what little girls wish for I wished for him to look at me like that, nothing more But none can compare with his instrument Nor to the reason why he plays it with such intent To the new girl he plays for To the girl he currently adores I hope his sound reaches you I hope you listen and give him value I hope you look at him as he plays for you Look at him like how he looks at the piano when he thinks of you Like how the crowd looks at him as he plays like this Like how the little girls look like when they wish Like how he used to look at the piano When he misses and plays for the little girl, not too long ago
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Escape into the darkness The only place where you can hide Close your eyes tightly and pretend you are fine Shutdown your brain so you don't agonize Hide till you no longer feel blue Hide till you no longer see stars Hide till the darkness takes over so you can't see your scars Wait for the light to come back Regret all your choices Wait for a life time Die alone in the darkness
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:25 AM UTC
Hide In The Darkness
i wonder what your name looks like in my handwriting if i weren't as shy as i am i would have overcrowded a notebook just of the way your i's are dotted what frightens me is that your hands don't agonize over my name don't at least motion the symbols in the air much less write them and i wonder what my name looks like in your handwriting if you curl the e the same i would curl yours or if you bestow your personal touch upon it either way it would look beautiful i would adore any name you'd write for me i wonder what your name looks like in my handwriting but honestly i worry that i cannot do it justice
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Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 12:47 AM UTC
handwriting
We brush over beginnings, But grasp them at the end The ride itself is lost until We slow ourselves again. The essence of our stories Are linear until Loved ones take their final breath And burning candles still. Precious things and pointless Birth lesions that won't mend The thoughts through which we agonize Take all our time to spend. In silence, what is final And all that's come to pass Brings consciousness to what we are When nothing good can last.
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
The Ending.
A DESERT STONE WILL TURN TO GOLD IN COMPANY WITH THOSE WHO KNOE YOU ASK MY LOVE ABOUT MY TEAR BUT DONT YOU RECOGNISE THE FEAR THEY AGONIZE MY FEAR? WERE NOTE YOUR INFIDILITY TORTUNING ME SO CRUELLY MY SORROW WOULD DEPERT BY IKRAMULLAH JANI
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Oct 13, 2011
Oct 13, 2011 at 12:38 AM UTC
REHMAN BABA POETRY
if the clock says eight-thirty-ache       or twenty-two tears to nine expired would you believe ? if my love begins with a r-u there within my rhyme , r-you ? I agonize sunrise-sets I galvanize my felling in crystalline halos and auroras of dazzling magnetic lights enveloping my love for you
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Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
What Time Is It My Love
My lips kiss the heat in the air, pretending you're holding my swollen hips. I'm hypnotized by your every move and word. Yet you come and go like our diseases we hold. The taste in my mouth burns back to my jaw, so bitter and raw. Yet when the sweet lyrics come out of your groin, I'm back again. So obedient, I'm disobeying my every lesson. Everything I tell myself not to do but I'm there at every sound and every smile. Then it turns cold in literal seconds, and my beaming drops to a hallow fall. You gain and gain every last drop of my changing sleeves, the heart is hidden in this beast. And I agonize over the idea that history has repeated myself. What I swore I would do seems so child-like, that I'm tearing it away. You're tearing me away, too. And you. Because no matter how much I know your heart could love, no matter how little softness you posses, no matter how many miles separate us, I'm still left so sharp, so bitter.
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Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
Bitter
Sometimes even though I think I've healed those scars still hurt. Even all the happy days I have some memory sticks its poison and I die a little again Even now I´m in love, with all my heart and this love is wonderful! Although I feel loved in body and soul this pain manages to reach me and plucks my wings a little. Is part of healing, right? Die from time to time agonize with some anguish that… an old wish, one very rooted in our soul take away our peace, erase our smile Is part of healing, right? And it takes time… it really takes time… And I think that from now on my life is going to be the most similar as I had dreamed. I woke up and that there's no reason to be blind again But… even all... and as happy as I can be there are some things that always will hurt… I think there's not enough time to them to stop hurting, because is not possible to erase in the map of our soul, something that we wished from our core Lets see…
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Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
Writting is how I heal...
Yearning Longing Thirsty Hungry... Crave Covet Ache for Lust after... Pine for Agonize over Plead Need... Wish Want Indulge Relish... Want some more.
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Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
Desire
"the encompassment of these words is stunning; existential angst in a fruit, or section thereof hurtling into space. makes sense though, if i lived in a runaway time capsule, i'd want fruit too, perfect or no. nice poem" Say what? Take a noun and make it noun-er. Take philosophy and dress it down. Take a fruit, an orange, section it, throw it into space, then agonize over its rightness of being. Thee musn't feel that one's overuse of semi-archaic phrases and punctuation lessens the actuality of the expression being made. Indeed, it serves only to encapsulate the soundness of thine understandingness and thine expressions of agreement-oneness with the effervescent  bubbliness needed to attract one's readers to continue with their reading of one's liturgy of the meaningfulness of the outerworlds and innertimes. Throw in Gaia, underworlds, swords and flames. Trees with names. socks with shoes. Oftentimes these travel through the continuum side by side, yet unencumbered with knowingness of the other, unembraced by the unembraceable.
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
What I read, you do not hear.
I mourn for me because mourning is all I feel. I mourn the souls forgone lost brethren denied the dawn of a new day I mourn the aborted children lights of the world shinning only in the beyond. I mourn for the breast that never gave suckle to a child and the child that never ****** breast. I mourn for broken homes The genesis of a rotten society. I mourn for children and graduates on the streets chasing vehicles and turning to our own Usain Bolt. I mourn youths basking in the decadence of morality. I mourn the ideology that everyone MUST go to school. Creativity lies dead and a certificate is the only aim in our head. I mourn because of what I see on TV Vixens displaying **** bodies like CV I mourn for my sisters, aunties cousins nieces; Victims of domestic violence. I mourn because they agonize in silence I mourn for inmates in cells, Cells worse than hell; I mourn for those innocent crimes those locked up for a little fine. I mourn for creative minds discouraged by the webbed hands of piracy. I mourn for the Fallen Giant, NIGERIA, chained hands and feet, Master of corruption and slaves of procrastination. I mourn the incessant fuel scarcity, half baked graduates from the substandard oven of our varsities. I mourn 'cause we have lost the way. These are what I mourn for, I mourn for this and more.......... when will yonder future glue back dreams with suture? shattered dreams is what I mourn for being amidst sorrows that hollow our fellow. I mourn for war victims in Gaza, Syria and Nigeria that wakes not with joy. look at that girl and boy their bloods spilled on our soil. I mourn for you, my queen and Roy. with piety I pray thee sweet eternity. I mourn for forgotten souls What does yonder holds for us? I mourn lost heroes; those that sleeps with saddened pillows. I mourn I mourn, how many wake to see the dawn?
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Mourning!
I mourn for me because mourning is all I feel. I mourn the souls forgone lost brethren denied the dawn of a new day I mourn the aborted children lights of the world shinning only in the beyond. I mourn for the breast that never gave suckle to a child and the child that never ****** breast. I mourn for broken homes The genesis of a rotten society. I mourn for children and graduates on the streets chasing vehicles and turning to our own Usain Bolt. I mourn youths basking in the decadence of morality. I mourn the ideology that everyone MUST go to school. Creativity lies dead and a certificate is the only aim in our head. I mourn because of what I see on TV Vixens displaying **** bodies like CV I mourn for my sisters, aunties cousins nieces; Victims of domestic violence. I mourn because they agonize in silence I mourn for inmates in cells, Cells worse than hell; I mourn for those innocent crimes those locked up for a little fine. I mourn for creative minds discouraged by the webbed hands of piracy. I mourn for the Fallen Giant, NIGERIA, chained hands and feet, Master of corruption and slaves of procrastination. I mourn the incessant fuel scarcity, half baked graduates from the substandard oven of our varsities. I mourn 'cause we have lost the way. These are what I mourn for, I mourn for this and more.......... when will yonder future glue back dreams with suture? shattered dreams is what I mourn for being amidst sorrows that hollow our fellow. I mourn for war victims in Gaza, Syria and Nigeria that wakes not with joy. look at that girl and boy their bloods spilled on our soil. I mourn for you, my queen and Roy. with piety I pray thee sweet eternity. I mourn for forgotten souls What does yonder holds for us? I mourn lost heroes; those that sleeps with saddened pillows. I mourn I mourn, how many wake to see the dawn?
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