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Beautiful, gentle, feminine grace
Her essence redolent of future nostalgic days
Supplement for the eyes
Taste of sweet hope
drive away consternation
Fragile, lithe confidence
Feline cockiness
unblemished control
So bold and self-assured
Insecurities tucked so deep
She walks with the air of
superior knowledge
And she has it
She knows things we wished
Intelligent in all her undertaking
As simple as they are.
likeness to the purest
Shes a magnificent creature
There is strength in her confidence.


Then there are the others
similar species
The ones who lack
Beastly
Trod like a giant
Callous to the touch
Gauche by comparisson
Constant yearning To be so sure of themselves
Constantly seeking others approval
Watching her
Studying her.
Long hours of staring And inhaling her
Pretending to be her.
Failing
Its innate
But only in women like her
"We are not all meant to be the same"
They are fed
"It would be boring"
She's manufactured by society
To endure society
Survival of the fittest
She will survive.
Don't we all deserve to survive?
Some say its science down to the atom
Invariably convinced that they are not members
of the "protected" feminine gender
But definitely not welcomed to the esteemed masculine gender.


Born in the right body
Trapped in the wrong mind.
Dαиι Mar 2016
You can see through those eyes,
A beast to be unleashed.
That melts my will
and drives me to him
into a place,
where the pulpits of sheets
and my aching skin merge
In clamour of despair
Incessant his name

He gives such a pleasure,
a fiercely collision
without even trying
down to extenuation
where his godly solace
raptures me without omission
to a sacred harbour
that nor heaven,nor hell
Have comparisson.
May
Go away sorrow.
The soil of his mind is not fertile for you
Go away from these restless eyes
And should you return,come back White.
For there is no way that it can go on like this
Forsaken by all his Senses
Torn...
Struggling with time and expectations
Ambition is a poisonous fruit
He has tasted that.
Comparisson is the gift of the Snake
He has accepted this gift.
The passion of others for his one life...
It's demanding
The eyes set on his trembling hand...
A grave torment
Each line that is drawn is a victim
A victim of stability
Each number he sees,a scruple in his mind
Neverending sleepless nights
To heavy prayers for his own consience
Go away miracles
Or rather the belief
Calling loud the name of Limpidity
But the air is no healer
The air is not much of a God
It bears no flag of Victory
It just bears the smell of change
A smell yet untouched by cigarette-smoke
Therefore bound by what we call Destiny
Until the Lily of the Valley blooms
Until he moves as the compass indicates
North...

Clear are the eyes with no shame
And deep as the lake of aims
But no earthly creature can possess them
And no one can point his head towards the sky
For there is always a ceiling above us,a barrier.
What is different from us
What we cannot touch
Infinity
Or a tiny place in history...

"Panting"
-Last month.So close to the end...Havoc or blossom?

— The End —