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"egotist" poems
I have a dream! I have a dream, To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King, I have a dream! I have a dream! To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring. Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment The world turns out to be bitter, To all of you, I write this letter. To create a world relieved from these and turn better. I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool, Searching for the right tool, You turned the world with full of mess, People are left with nothing less. To the world, you gave theories, Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries, About your theories, you boasted, It has created a few ruling and bloated. Most of you worked as economic hitmen, Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen. To the realities, your theory is distant, Served no solution to the dying peasants, To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants, Tuned our lives to a depended migrant. With your development lecture, You have killed the entire nature, In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture, Hunted and looted our generations’ future. We lived a self-reliant community, You killed us with imposed liability, Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty, The word that remains imagination still is equality. We lost our humanity and identity, In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity, Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility, We finally became a society, filled with atrocity. Your useless lectures of development, Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment, For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement, So, now for you instead, we make a replacement. To my questions, you neglected and ran, In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man, To you short-sighted range, I say I will bring in a change! Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer, A day will come, where you will stand to answer, Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions, This will be my lifetime mission and ambition. I say with all my limited experience, I will put a test to all your conscience, Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand? With people will you always stand? I am not an economist, I am neither an egotist, I proclaim! I proclaim! I am a revolutionary economist, I know you will fit me a label, I am sure I will be an economic rebel, A rebellious economist. I dream a world without huge inequalities, I dream a world free from imposed liabilities, I dream a world without poverty and disparities, I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
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Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
A letter to the ****** economists- I have a dream
I have a dream! I have a dream, To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King, I have a dream! I have a dream! To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring. Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment The world turns out to be bitter, To all of you, I write this letter. To create a world relieved from these and turn better. I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool, Searching for the right tool, You turned the world with full of mess, People are left with nothing less. To the world, you gave theories, Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries, About your theories, you boasted, It has created a few ruling and bloated. Most of you worked as economic hitmen, Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen. To the realities, your theory is distant, Served no solution to the dying peasants, To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants, Tuned our lives to a depended migrant. With your development lecture, You have killed the entire nature, In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture, Hunted and looted our generations’ future. We lived a self-reliant community, You killed us with imposed liability, Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty, The word that remains imagination still is equality. We lost our humanity and identity, In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity, Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility, We finally became a society, filled with atrocity. Your useless lectures of development, Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment, For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement, So, now for you instead, we make a replacement. To my questions, you neglected and ran, In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man, To you short-sighted range, I say I will bring in a change! Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer, A day will come, where you will stand to answer, Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions, This will be my lifetime mission and ambition. I say with all my limited experience, I will put a test to all your conscience, Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand? With people will you always stand? I am not an economist, I am neither an egotist, I proclaim! I proclaim! I am a revolutionary economist, I know you will fit me a label, I am sure I will be an economic rebel, A rebellious economist. I dream a world without huge inequalities, I dream a world free from imposed liabilities, I dream a world without poverty and disparities, I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
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61
His flabbered jowls were hung aghast Beneath his slobbered liver lips His bulbous eyes were overcast By burly brows of stewardship An overbearing egotist He stood apart from infidels Compassion dealt with belt and fist Disdainful with no parallels And there upon his lofty dais In garments fit to drape a throne He glared with bulbous eyes ablaze Upon a ragged danger zone A misbegotten anarchist Audacious with his sweet implore To strike a flaming catalyst Emboldened by his quest for more
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC
A Small Endeavor
We try to grasp all that we can feel Every grain of substance we can imagine All the hesitant hands we couldn't deal From our arduous compassion engines How long can we believe until we kneel To the unkempt veracity of religion Or fade into a vengeful iconoclast Cynically mocking the faithful breed Of merry-go-bashers that attempt to cast Their egotist ideals of what we all need Fairy tale prophets that lived in the past Getting off on their own selfish greed The words of mankind have nothing to tell Implicating a heaven is rhetoric at best And, If i'm to live i'd rather go to hell A tactic of fear sounds like a fitting nest For someone who has already gaily fell To a nihilist end that I should have guessed I have opened my mind to one single thing A universal truth that we all should know That one simple rule is to believe in nothing Is there any trace of deception in what I sow? There is no wrong answer when you doubt everything And, your deathbed will teach that there's nothing to know
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Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
De Omnibus Dubitandum
Egotist, the master of the ego mist or some ego antagonist he is so much there in the center of a web of regurgitated fears recycling pointless the old cycles of night after day life after chaos but no death after ego inflation just a rusty song of imprisoned moments or undeciphered gnashing all character is just the dust you cannot grasp grey ruminations curses wiggling in times devoid of innocence the cruelty of a **** refusing to wither at the end of his cigarettes a speck of self is threading a stratagem to severe the ties for the ******* of distance so that he can continue uninterrupted to mutilate his heart no one can persuade the night into whitening like you clean your teeth of curses the rest is sadness the dew would know it.
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Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Egotistical story: a stratagem
Timeless Poet Who called me that? Why make this line item, A poem? What means this timeless? That There is not enough Time to elaborate all that I can conceive? No, mundane, nothing more. The POW poems arrive at all hours, And we no longer care when and if you sleep, For plain the answer, your internal clock, askew, The answer already poetically enshrined, Nevermore... Did you deceive yourself, As is your vanity customary, That your scribblings May last one day longer than your physical self? Dddddelusionary, like confectionary, God tasting for a few seconds, Then it is just a song Of get a long little doggies!^ Perhaps the phrase reversed, The meaning peversed? Poet Timeless. Ah that's it! Lay down your crafty pride, egotist, On theTemple Altar, It is already but a burnt sacrifice! Before God, there will always be poets. Yours the mantle to carry till you fall, Then another man's children will lift up words In combinations denied you. They will take your scribblings, Rearrange, Just as you did, unawares, There is nothing new under the sun, Especially the illusion that there is Something unborn yet to say. Ah Poets, Egotistical tools, So easy to fool... ^ http://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/chris+ledoux/get+along+little+doggies_20209623.html
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Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
Timeless Poet
strange enough, that word choice, ****** for they are all, (or mostly) men they get on their knees, so eager to please write a poem, newbie, they will be your partner pretenders, instant followers but the trick employed is transference they want you bad to worship them, that being the purest of their false intentions, their oldest trick, guilt, "if I follow you, you should follow me!" their kiss Pass laden with std's, they want implanted in your hp inbox The std is vanity. what they need, what they want you to imbibe, is their world view, poetry-is-by-the-numbers the number of followers, (how I detest that word) the number of reads, oft manipulated, by cyber techno b.s. so understand, this craft, you may have chosen, is work, so hard, because it comes from the gut, wrenching pressing issues inside you it is about everything you want us to understand about you, your vision peculiar, without revealing your rawest self so obviously know this in advance each poem has a unique audience, as unique as you years took me, took me to grasp this simply complex notion, over come myself within myself, that self-same infection that audience is you write to please yourself, be your harshest critic, popularity will find you your truths, withour pandering, will finds the seekers, the quality lovers, the truth hungerers they will find you, of that, be assured amidst the millions of words, yours are yours, fear not the plaintive worry, are they any good? for the courage to post yourself, is the very self same answer to that, the bells toll for thee if it pleased you, pained you, enough that you released into this world, in poem form, it is good enough poetry is ego no question, but keep yourself on the right side of the line, separating your ego from the egotist, and your poetry will no question, forever live, a mark of you upon the world let us be brothers, let us be sisters, David and Jonathan, Ruth and Naomi, but not Cain and Abel, no anger, no jealousy, just raw, refined, truth, the truth of you, which cannot be diminished by enumeration, cannot be counted, only blessed
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Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
Poetry ****** (each poem has a unique audience)
strange enough, that word choice, ****** for they are all, (or mostly) men they get on their knees, so eager to please write a poem, newbie, they will be your partner pretenders, instant followers but the trick employed is transference they want you bad to worship them, that being the purest of their false intentions, their oldest trick, guilt, "if I follow you, you should follow me!" their kiss Pass laden with std's, they want implanted in your hp inbox The std is vanity. what they need, what they want you to imbibe, is their world view, poetry-is-by-the-numbers the number of followers, (how I detest that word) the number of reads, oft manipulated, by cyber techno b.s. so understand, this craft, you may have chosen, is work, so hard, because it comes from the gut, wrenching pressing issues inside you it is about everything you want us to understand about you, your vision peculiar, without revealing your rawest self so obviously know this in advance each poem has a unique audience, as unique as you years took me, took me to grasp this simply complex notion, over come myself within myself, that self-same infection that audience is you write to please yourself, be your harshest critic, popularity will find you your truths, withour pandering, will finds the seekers, the quality lovers, the truth hungerers they will find you, of that, be assured amidst the millions of words, yours are yours, fear not the plaintive worry, are they any good? for the courage to post yourself, is the very self same answer to that, the bells toll for thee if it pleased you, pained you, enough that you released into this world, in poem form, it is good enough poetry is ego no question, but keep yourself on the right side of the line, separating your ego from the egotist, and your poetry will no question, forever live, a mark of you upon the world let us be brothers, let us be sisters, David and Jonathan, Ruth and Naomi, but not Cain and Abel, no anger, no jealousy, just raw, refined, truth, the truth of you, which cannot be diminished by enumeration, cannot be counted, only blessed
Continue reading...
118
Without the audience I am nothing. If I believed that there was no one out there who was listening or who cared or who loved or who chose to listen I mean read I would be a desiccated pear I would be a tired excuse of a shoe. I have to know that I am better than nothing. If I received no feedback at all, no encouraging words from friends, Sometimes I don't know if I would do it if I would press on and walk and write and rebel and destroy and rebuild and light up then burn out. Sometimes I sit and I think about nothing. and honestly it's great to know that nothing is something and maybe I am something or nothing or a mouse or a servant or a shoe or a revolutionist or an egotist or a ********** or I am a perfect uttered silence a ****** quiet or maybe I am Jack's shiner, his swollen-shut eyelid but maybe just maybe I am there for a chivalrous reason and I got just one good lick in or maybe I didn't and I took one like a ***** but I walked her home and I kissed her and she liked it and I did too And I am nothing, And I know this. What I'm saying is, I wouldn't be able to sleep. What I'm saying is, I hope I'm something you'll keep. What I'm saying is, keep reading and I'll keep breathing. What I'm saying is, and I'll shout it in powdery tones What I'm saying is, don't make me be alone.
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Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 10:16 PM UTC
the Audience
I KNOW WHY I DID IT… With a tender good smile i went through and succeded… The motives were not so good but selfish… I became an egotist… I became a hypocrite… I became infested by evil thoughts… All thee things were put randomly and i had to repuzzle them… Nothing ever bothered me but i was bothering u… You are lucky i didn’t hunt you but i was haunted… I always gave my self a pat on a shoulder for it even though it’s evil but what can i say i liked it… I found my self counting and the list was endless, everytime i thought i was done i remembered another… A fact nobody ever succeded without panishment in evil deeds… I know why i did it… Trust me its not that easy… Its not even easy to let loose nor undastand why you did it… Its always good when you are in a comfort zone pity it doesn’t last long… The only cure was the but couldn’t reach out… It wasn’t difficult at all but evil thoughts were dominating… If you wana know its simple but complicated to undastand and now i know why i did it… That simple thing that keeps the smile and tears concurrent… The seed of all good things in life… The catalyst of influential good spirit that bring world together… The great keeper of peace… I know why I did it… LOVE Was the main reason! Writting is a very good way of sharing your thoughts and experiences, its worth it the is no useless information…. Visit my blog... www.afrowritings.wordpress.com
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Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
I KNOW WHY I DID IT
Can you tell from the look in my eyes; That I can't wait for those words to arise? Even if I've been sincere since the beginning All my intent and purpose results in toil sinning Our egotist needs will surpass what we feel Longing for change and seeing past what's real It's a truth I've personally come to trust That love can't be founded on a whim of lust And even the fallen will see what is right As every deep lover can't see without sight Fixated on sensation with one goal in mind The comfort of leaving all sorrow behind It comes with a price - to create a new pang A promise of sadness that fate solely sang
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
As Hearts Keep Beating
I love me. I just don't think Anyone else does. I love me.
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Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 7:40 PM UTC
The Insecure Egotist
You people don't appreciate me enough. I mean my very presence should be a welcomed blessing in the midst of your pathetic lives, and my unmistakable genius. Whilst I am forced into such close proximity to your kind, who couldn't ever measure up to these high standards of mine. You mock me and speak harshly of me. But now it is a fact that indeed you are all just jealous and hateful, strongly wishing you were the meticulous being that I am. All my charitable deeds go to waste and so what more can I say? I am perfection and therefore, man must dislike what they can not have. Yet, as it is, I can still walk with an air of grace and dignity, my head quite high A true sign of an individual worthy of much acknowledgement.
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May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
Confessions of an Egotist
Hello, I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine. I made his acquaintance by pure accident. You might say, we bumped into each other. Oh, silly me. You thought I speak of an actual person. No. I hold here in my hands, a diary. Not just any diary filled with day to day frilliness of a Victorian Lady. But, a diary filled with....... Well, I guess you will have to just wait and read for yourself. I will just pick a page at random to start out at. The Gentleman who wrote these entries, is a man of many facets. He is kind; frivolous; confident; an egotist. He can be filled with anger and then snap, just like that, be his over the top self once more. He is death himself. He is a Vampire. Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a look into The Diaries Of Lord Kellington Whispers of the dawn rush to meet me each morn. They taunt and tease me. "Morning is not long to come. Your time to play does run out". Alas. Tis true. My time in the night is short. So I must hurry. Shall I prowl the night as I? Or shall I don a disguise. Once I think on it. Either way does not matter. There will be no eyes. None to see after my "kiss". So sweet and gentle that sip. It takes just a glance and the other night dwellers know to avoid me. They sense that death is my shadow. Why! They couldn't be more right. I will choose swiftly. So that I may go dance. Yes! I love to dance. Ah. The night is my stage. Truth be told? I love it! ~Lord Kellington Hello, I hope you enjoyed the first installment of Lord Kellington's Diary. There are more to come
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Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 6:01 PM UTC
The Diaries Of Lord Kellington
Hello, I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine. I made his acquaintance by pure accident. You might say, we bumped into each other. Oh, silly me. You thought I speak of an actual person. No. I hold here in my hands, a diary. Not just any diary filled with day to day frilliness of a Victorian Lady. But, a diary filled with....... Well, I guess you will have to just wait and read for yourself. I will just pick a page at random to start out at. The Gentleman who wrote these entries, is a man of many facets. He is kind; frivolous; confident; an egotist. He can be filled with anger and then snap, just like that, be his over the top self once more. He is death himself. He is a Vampire. Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a look into The Diaries Of Lord Kellington Whispers of the dawn rush to meet me each morn. They taunt and tease me. "Morning is not long to come. Your time to play does run out". Alas. Tis true. My time in the night is short. So I must hurry. Shall I prowl the night as I? Or shall I don a disguise. Once I think on it. Either way does not matter. There will be no eyes. None to see after my "kiss". So sweet and gentle that sip. It takes just a glance and the other night dwellers know to avoid me. They sense that death is my shadow. Why! They couldn't be more right. I will choose swiftly. So that I may go dance. Yes! I love to dance. Ah. The night is my stage. Truth be told? I love it! ~Lord Kellington Hello, I hope you enjoyed the first installment of Lord Kellington's Diary. There are more to come
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29
Dear peer of mine, Thank you for your shouting that interrupted the silence of my walk home. I'll be sure to mend the seams you've broken. Dear imbecilic *** Thank you for making my instinctual sense of alarm spike with your gibberish yells. I'll be sure to fight or flight your obvious nightmare. Dear egotist, Thank you for the several minutes of self doubt you caused me when you shouted horrifically in my direction. I'll be sure to note your superficial standards and, uh, not give a **** Dear secret admirer, Thank you! I'm glad to make you just sooo nervous that you feel you just can't come up with the words to express your emotions nor can you approach me in an appropriate manner. I'll be sure to keep on doing my own thing and you can observe<quietly> if you want.
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
Strutting my not so cool
This heart is a symbolic semblance Of the constitution that we pretend To know that we feel and apprehend A literal presentation of emotion Is this an excuse for our lack of confirmation? Could we portray what we mean without what's relative? Is this all that you've come to see? Or am I just a try hard with an over blown ego? Have I just stated what is already prevalent ? An egotist mind within your own assumptions would be just as forbidding as it's own relativity To claim that this love is so endlessly brilliant A cackle from the nothingness of self assurance The seldom thoughts that lay in dilapidation Could be seen if it weren't that pride Was the only benefactor to your own pleasure And , if it's a must to be who you are Then why the **** do you strive so hard ? To be something that you already were A human being with nothing but humility
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Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
Fragmented Sentences
whiff of her long hair black lashes on her oval eyes crescents on her lips slender hands sparkle adorned meek finger n her ****** skin thy beside eyes are shut lips are mum hands anchored to lap yet i see the glint of her eye hear her word feel her hand an echo from da time gone its just that she is gone ------the egotist
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 7:41 AM UTC
it's just that she is gone
Why, hello! Have a seat, enjoy the show! Attend the tale of Mister No. A life uncouth, hell is assumed to be the truth for our dear friend, the sayer of sooth. An awful, loathing egotist A self-defeating narcissist Lonely, yes, but not alone Lost in life, the fault his own Stuck in his head He lowers the bar Smokes himself dead And accumulates tar So much to do Enjoy, and feel Yet he sits, wallows Accepts his deal I hope you're enjoying this caution'ry tale of the sad clown's life, destined to fail. You may have missed a sort of twist; I am that one, that narcissist; that losing, hating pessimist, that one who lives life without list. Laugh, point, cry, mock, do what you will. There's not much you can do that I haven't already done to myself. Go home, the show's over.
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Mister No's Circus of Infinite Folly
i; megalomaniac my ego so wrung with pride my psyche, broken psyche swallowed by hell- but still mine a string of hazy days, my days shattered yet sublime convinced god has touched me with his forefingers on my forehead bestowed some sort of end to me an aim to follow till i'm dead filled my eyes with dreams set greatness on my head Olympus holds my dreams for me in great heights, in silver light but i a river Styx, am drowned i cannot see wrong from right so every dream of mine is pain and never seems quite right i, great egotist delusion gone so far that i would think myself a giantess eighty eight hundred feet tall i yell upon the mountain tears streaming as i bawl high up in the clouds i be thus longer is my fall
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 1:35 AM UTC
08.15.2018
lost n thirsty i stood in faith wings of falcon flapped a ride to never-land i was told into da luminous vicinity n absolute nothin blind n jade i looked for you and all I had was your whim ---the egotist.
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 7:30 AM UTC
whim - a random thought
by da lane see thru da pane far away dey seem yet illuminate my dream to da high lands I elope to a dream of hope in the pines I wander in all da wonder ain't a feign aint a smile n few jive from a mile few make it obvious look thy incredulous its all my pain by da lane see through da pane ---the egotist
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 7:36 AM UTC
by da lane
lets go go go find a place close to her lemme see her smile blink her eyes play her hair dance her hands chew her food chatter around n lastly sway away lets go go go find a place close to her -- the egotist
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 6:24 AM UTC
lets go go go
The arrogant ******* went ahead, said his peace his ultimate end was a soul to fleece killing a spirit breaking a heart sowing discouragement right from the start knocking men down from his great altitude he was an egotist with a bad attitude but to his dismay what he didn't expect that he never received other peoples respect his knowledge was great why wouldn't they listen with all of his schooling he believed his opinion to glisten eating at him he'd continued his fight hoping his words would push others to flight then with great disrespect as his means to his ends he found himself all alone without any friends
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Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC
Arrogance, Man's Worst Friend
You are the best The brightest Or so you love to say Deep down You know your nothing Just an atom Of our big big world No matter how You scream your supposed Superiority Nothing changes.
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Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
Confidenceless egotist
You can rip the rainbow right out of the sky, or make me feel so freaking high, but you can't control it. You're Jekyll and Mr.Hyde, sometimes your calm, sometimes just an unpredictable tide. And I love you! bit by bit, as I friend and dear to me, but.. I'm tired of being drowned by your slightly helpful sea. You can carry me away, but you're so clung to reality. Telling me what you've heard, to push your pain into me. Shoving it deep, by calling me names, and telling me your morals, that turn into my shames. I try to take your hand, when I have fallen down, you offer it to me, after I am on the ground, but then as I get up, you put me in my place? I just don't really need this. Are you hoping I'll lose face? Hoping to wipe my happiness clean, and that my smile will leave no trace? Pity- self-pity- hopeless, devouring, full pity. And you filled it up, so full you had to pass some on to me, but now I'm going to blow up. I'm done with you. And hell yeah, I feel so free!
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Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
Egotist Hands