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From the depths of hell
Where I slowly fell
A deal made with the devil
As I started tossing pennies in a well

But the angels came and broke my fall
Saved me from sinking, down this hellhole
The life I sold is more precious than gold
That my friend is what I saw,life is now more clearer and bold

But after all upon throwing them all
Before the saving and breaking of my fall
I drowned in fame,money and ***
for 7 years I ruled the world as it rise to an apex

But then downfall and recollection came tormenting my soul
Hellhounds came gnarling,scratching and waiting at my bedroom door
Regrets starts falling alone with my tears as I prayed for salvation
Never thought God listened, As the angels descent ended my damnation

The devil is a salesman and you're a valued costumer
Starts thinking 7 times before you go and starts to barter
For your soul is more precious than what you think you'll be having
God gave me a second chance never thought my soul is worth saving
Emily Ziegler Jul 2015
creepy post-impressionist artists creep on prostitutes,
                     there's lamplight glowing on that street corner
and she refuses yet another costumer's ****** offering.
If I could go into my mind
Walk around
It would look like
A cute little bookshop
Old and rustic
Books overflowing on shelves
All containing the knowledge my mind holds
A few cobwebs
In high up places
Overstuffed chairs
Made for comfort
When I need it
I imagine an older lady
In charge of the store
Wise for my age
The thoughts of
An 80 year old
In a 14 year old's body
When I was younger
It was probably like the children's section
Pictures filled my mind
Giving me the imagination
To keep my innocence
For as long as I did
My mom would say
That a 36 year old
Ran the shop then
And I, the 7 year old
Was a common costumer

I wish I could
Just live in my mind
And not have to interact
With the outside world

Sometimes I like to think
The boys that I get infatuated with
Will visit my little bookstore
And search the shelves
While I hide in an overstuffed chair
And admire them from the distance

I could go on forever
With this metaphor
Of my mind
So I won’t

While those who read this
Get a quick glimpse
Into my bookshop
And if they look hard enough
They can see the dark haired girl
With a smattering of freckles
Sunk into a chair
With a book in hand
And a pen in the other
As she expands her knowledge
She finishes a book
And adds it to the shelf
Another day
Another adventure
Lexus Sampaio Aug 2015
Hello may i have three draws for lucky
May i have three draws

Miss may i ask what are three draws

The days you twit

Miss im sorry, you said it was three

Yes three and hurry...

She yells and hiss i try my best
She yells and hiss and im losing it

My head gets light my eyes feel heavy
And im losing it i feel it...

Here are your draws have a good day

She just walks away

I slowly count 100-1
I snap my wrist every time
I cringe from the pain
Put a smile on my face
Because its work

Next costumer..
Welcome, how are you today?
cleann98 Oct 2018
this poem is just about a bakeshop.
no allegories
no symbolisms
no idioms
no metaphors.

mother kneads the dough.
she does it so well.
pounding the white clay
with such masterful effort
her hands do not tire.
neither tires her arms.
neither her thighs tremble.
neither her smile
it charms.

mother had been standing there
untiringly since dawn.
and yet she does not stop.

it has been raining incessantly
ever since she woke up
and yet she does not stop.

not even a single costumer appeared
not a single knock on the door
and yet she does not stop.

daughter asked her out already
daughter asked her to close the shop

daughter always says
and with a lot of sense
watching mother work
simply is not worth
the miniscule sells

yet still she does not stop.

daughter asks mother
far too much.
she asks why mother is always smiling
she asks why mother works hard as such
she asks why mother why it was always raining

daughter asks mother
why no one is waiting at the counter?
daughter then followed
where is brother and father?
and finally daughter asks
why no one, for their shop, would bother?

to which mother just replied
"let us simply pray for better weather"
don't try to find an analysis
you wom't gain anything from asking anything
this is
the most blatant poem
you will read ever
just look at the title.

— The End —