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"foreseen" poems
We had never even talked; I really only knew of you. We passed by each other in the hallways, Consumed by all we had to do. Now, three years later, I suddenly discover you are gone... Makes me wonder if we had been friends, Could you have found the will to carry on? Maybe just a weak "hello" Or a smile of silent understanding Could have been enough to keep you here When life had gotten more demanding. I wonder if my friendship Could have simply helped you to know That life is hard for all of us And that you were not alone. The feelings must have been raw, As the voices in your head got louder. Maybe if you could have foreseen the fallout You would have lived your life a little prouder. I don't know what you went through And I probably wouldn't have been a huge difference But perhaps, for you, I could have been Some sort of interference. I'm praying for your families-- Because I wish you knew that you had two. There was the one with the same last name But also those friends who chose to love you. I wish that you could see How much everyone here is grieving Asking what more they could have done Just to keep you from leaving. And I am sorry I couldn't help you That you felt there was no other way-- And I wish I had given you a bit more thought Than just finding out the other day. Even though I didn't help you I just wanted you to see: In one day, you touched so many lives-- One of those being me.
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
Eulogy for a Classmate
A death that was foreseen, yet a consequence was not, The end of pain and loss was met with acceptance and love and inspiration slipped from my grasp and I tried all the tricks in the book to keep my pen writing And I wish it were as simple as going out and buying a new pen From what source do I draw out ink, when on the road to selflove and acceptance? When old questions and doubts have met with answers and a clear path?
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Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
?
the comforting warmth of the morning sun, like I had known it from the days of yesteryears. the familiar scent of dew-kissed grass, a fresh aroma that brought forth the tide of gratitude laden tears. I had foreseen the day to be just as before... I had planned to play out my morning as I had rehearsed. but your message had foiled all that I thought I knew... it brought about the smile that eternity had kept pursed. your words were laced with the flowers of spring... they set at ease the unapparent apprehension I've always kept. they spoke of compliments meant only for the worthiest quills, I've read them in disbelief as I think not of myself, an adept... truly you are one that's generous and so very kind. for your words flew off the page and had struck home; bearing the stoutest of hope and most selfless of wishes. they had provided direction in these vague circles that I roam. so now allow me to thank you dear poetess... for drawing the sunrise clear into my view. I shall revel and bask in its delightful rays... because your words had painted today in the brightest hue...
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Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
Your Heartening Words
“I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet.” John Quincy Adams, 6th President of the United States <> a bad weakness, mine, mess with the perfect of others, unsure what to add that will addictive illuminate further, but as homage, a tribute, a salute got to got too, no middle class delayed gratification for me, none, whatsoever, read the words and my own hands choke me as if to pull out, to free the upsurging words in my chest-forming, to uplift me up, from the floor where I am roiling in wonderful wonderment at a prophecy come true my recent family history, about 400 years worth, got it written down someplace, escapees from a Spanish Inquisition, a Roman one before that, meandering Jews who found a respite, a small welcome in a small village in Germany (the irony does not go unnoticed) from villager to merchant, from tiny town to big city folk, we went, warriors if any, kept secret, best unheard, attract no attention, but do what survival doesn’t always politely request here I am child of the proverbial wandering jew, fancy me a poet with, at best, a very small p, one of three children, historians, book writers, scholars and even poet~traders, and so a President’s words, hammer my cells upon an anvil for human skins, the future shape of me foreseen and I think to myself, alone and out loud: This, This! is what makes America great,  welcoming the stranger, even predicting their possible pathway to a peaceful existence, giving their descendant’s generations liberty, liberty to become poets, free, who can stand upright*
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Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 1:47 PM UTC
“I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet.
“I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet.” John Quincy Adams, 6th President of the United States <> a bad weakness, mine, mess with the perfect of others, unsure what to add that will addictive illuminate further, but as homage, a tribute, a salute got to got too, no middle class delayed gratification for me, none, whatsoever, read the words and my own hands choke me as if to pull out, to free the upsurging words in my chest-forming, to uplift me up, from the floor where I am roiling in wonderful wonderment at a prophecy come true my recent family history, about 400 years worth, got it written down someplace, escapees from a Spanish Inquisition, a Roman one before that, meandering Jews who found a respite, a small welcome in a small village in Germany (the irony does not go unnoticed) from villager to merchant, from tiny town to big city folk, we went, warriors if any, kept secret, best unheard, attract no attention, but do what survival doesn’t always politely request here I am child of the proverbial wandering jew, fancy me a poet with, at best, a very small p, one of three children, historians, book writers, scholars and even poet~traders, and so a President’s words, hammer my cells upon an anvil for human skins, the future shape of me foreseen and I think to myself, alone and out loud: This, This! is what makes America great,  welcoming the stranger, even predicting their possible pathway to a peaceful existence, giving their descendant’s generations liberty, liberty to become poets, free, who can stand upright*
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42
An exchange of temptations that led to a hidden ordeal On an act of carnal ecstasy made to seal a deal The gamble to see if it’s worth lending a piece of the soul While trembling inside for the choices that would soon take toll The signs of deceit slowly surfaced but were shrugged despite suspicion Until a hasty flight provoked inner unrest and affliction Vivid memories of a previous torment come back haunting Knowing full well the Succubus affinity for betraying With logic and reason as both weapon and armor Against an enemy not easily made for capture Bargaining on a final bet that her grip be brought to nothing To release the mind from seemingly rotting The bargain commenced along with foreseen treason The sought peace only a hollow victory in a silently echoing frustration In total silence with a feeling that heavily burned A mental wall built to signify the lesson learned Screams of pain of the innards locked away in reticence Occurring to just seemingly mock the brilliance With great resolve brought by the treachery writhing in virulence Came the vigilance of avoiding such penitence And to never again taste the Succubus’ Sting in Silence
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Succubus Sting in Silence
Dancing with the drifter, the howling wind, I hear my calling. Surrounded by curious quadrupeds, peculiar creatures. The mind follows the adventure, futuristic thoughts are revealed. A video of truth, hidden meaning, I suppose. Led down the path of broken homes, forgotten tears, dark holes. The ending, foreseen or to be unclear? To dance with the deers, a scrutable choice.
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Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
Dancing With The Deers
And the stone word fell On my still-living breast. Never mind, I was ready. I will manage somehow. Today I have so much to do: I must **** memory once and for all, I must turn my soul to stone, I must learn to live again-- Unless . . . Summer's ardent rustling Is like a festival outside my window. For a long time I've foreseen this Brilliant day, deserted house.
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5.5k
The Sentence
Partly darkened and part in light A time when the stars and sun shared the sky Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might Impending clash foreseen to go awry Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends Each bearing their own solid ideals Their flags that flew with conflicting brands Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels Almost an eternity, the time is soon Seconds lasted before they finally would meet Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon With war cries of whistles, they would greet No possible way that they could miss War waged in steeled wills and forged metals Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals Sheer destruction as they ate into each other All in tow haphazardly derailed A clash made of brute strength and power A result of when decisiveness had failed All was motionless save for the light of day The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray Signifying that the two have met their goal Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance Determination to overwhelm; never to languish Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance Almost at end this long drawn battle Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out When the last of the debris should settle Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath Shedding light on the devastation incurred Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused Found great solace in the dark words I've governed Life still hurls; it can never be paused Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
Collision Course (III)
Partly darkened and part in light A time when the stars and sun shared the sky Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might Impending clash foreseen to go awry Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends Each bearing their own solid ideals Their flags that flew with conflicting brands Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels Almost an eternity, the time is soon Seconds lasted before they finally would meet Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon With war cries of whistles, they would greet No possible way that they could miss War waged in steeled wills and forged metals Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals Sheer destruction as they ate into each other All in tow haphazardly derailed A clash made of brute strength and power A result of when decisiveness had failed All was motionless save for the light of day The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray Signifying that the two have met their goal Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance Determination to overwhelm; never to languish Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance Almost at end this long drawn battle Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out When the last of the debris should settle Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath Shedding light on the devastation incurred Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused Found great solace in the dark words I've governed Life still hurls; it can never be paused Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened
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40
an oval antique photograph from the century just passed six youthful brothers must be sunday dressed exuding life and promise facing forward all in line symmetry pervading sister mary in their center on the photos right a startling recognition an image seen before colins great grandfather raymond often ray in features and a gaze seemed as colin would have stood photo has a crease fading but still clear now with photos recent privileged to compare colin next to ray both fully present yet a gaze away rays gaze anticipating army time in paris fortune seeking in the west fortunes to be found four generations branching to colin and beyond colins gaze capturing a journey now beginning does he see montana paris or the stars repeating patterns forward reflect photographic truth music completes the pattern with colorings of sound rays trumpet and harmonica introducing a guitar which colin has absorbed thus in his confirmation new dimensions now foreseen confirming four generations reflecting many more expanding light and love carrying our gratitude for the glimpse an old photograph favored us to find (poem written for my grandson's confirmation....)
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May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 12:38 PM UTC
confirmation
You've been waiting all this time When you have to give your yes to someone Never knowing, you never have foreseen There's a lot more than you That are breaking their hearts because You have given your yes; he had already found Whom he thought was best. I hope you're happy, even in The midst of sorrowful and maybe mournful Sea of tears of them other young girls Whose dreams were shattered All because -- just because You have given your yes He found a yes to forever, with you, not with them. ~~ Criss ∞
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Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
Forever Without Him
Since that Day when you gave your Best Cuddle That Winner you saw on your Left Eye's speak You chanted your Last Blessing; And in Huddle Breathed to him a Promise never foreseen It was your Spirit, infused into his Heart The kind where your Values gave their Best Brew And to him, Fortune's Delight would impart The Greatest Message he had since did knew I only realised once you left this Earth How my own Dad reached out and hugged me Dear I gave this back, crying for Month's own Worth Hoping you return for another Year. He needs your Cuddle again, Sir; Just because He may have missed it; A Medal at Loss.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: SIR ROBERT DALEY
i’ve lost hope numb and reeling living the aftermath of a foreseen tragedy remembering what was important when there was time to love and dream
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Aug 3, 2023
Aug 3, 2023 at 11:27 PM UTC
the world has changed
The rustic sheet of a door screams as we pull it like a scab We step inside this warehouse can Two floors - we're holding hands His eyes lit like a crescent Moon - excited, he yells "daaad!" Our head, like swaying swing We see it all, tongue in cheek Like controls without the freak It's so much fun it stings An asymmetric wasteland Convenient and distorted The walls - bleak and boarded A symbolic sleight of hand This is where we feel My father's on the catwalk Like paranoia paraphernalia My son's grip tightens, it's the only thing that's real Absolute felicity To realize what I have in the confines of my hand Imperfection in the making - he doesn't understand Skylarking permissably A reverie to remember His smile - sifting through his eyes Warm, he maneuvers like the flies He was born in December Moving closer to my father He's amidst the in-between Consistently foreseen His motion is no bother He steps along the ply Somehow keen in his demeanor Four-years-old, but greener Tossed and turning - it's the gleaner The sheet has been disturbed He's falling to his death I'm blanketed in sweat This cannot be deserved My father's eyes - they match my own I tear through the distance Foreseeing and consistent My father is a witness The fear - he's fighting falling We've never known it more His tiny hands just wishing there were nails Collective - we're losing all things I grasp a finger as he falls but not enough to bring him back My son approaches pavement as it fills my throat the same I look him in the eyes as they melt away in pain My body wakes without my mind - hysterically screaming  "DAAAD!"
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Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:00 AM UTC
Dreamboy
The rustic sheet of a door screams as we pull it like a scab We step inside this warehouse can Two floors - we're holding hands His eyes lit like a crescent Moon - excited, he yells "daaad!" Our head, like swaying swing We see it all, tongue in cheek Like controls without the freak It's so much fun it stings An asymmetric wasteland Convenient and distorted The walls - bleak and boarded A symbolic sleight of hand This is where we feel My father's on the catwalk Like paranoia paraphernalia My son's grip tightens, it's the only thing that's real Absolute felicity To realize what I have in the confines of my hand Imperfection in the making - he doesn't understand Skylarking permissably A reverie to remember His smile - sifting through his eyes Warm, he maneuvers like the flies He was born in December Moving closer to my father He's amidst the in-between Consistently foreseen His motion is no bother He steps along the ply Somehow keen in his demeanor Four-years-old, but greener Tossed and turning - it's the gleaner The sheet has been disturbed He's falling to his death I'm blanketed in sweat This cannot be deserved My father's eyes - they match my own I tear through the distance Foreseeing and consistent My father is a witness The fear - he's fighting falling We've never known it more His tiny hands just wishing there were nails Collective - we're losing all things I grasp a finger as he falls but not enough to bring him back My son approaches pavement as it fills my throat the same I look him in the eyes as they melt away in pain My body wakes without my mind - hysterically screaming  "DAAAD!"
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48
Divided and broken, my heart shatters softly, no ears to listen, to my melancholy. I scream, though silent, as I fall through the dark, nightmares whisper, the landscape stark. I feel the stab, of a sword through my back, and wonder if I could have, foreseen the attack. But blindly I trusted, no heed to danger, believing the good, and smiling at strangers. My trust is misplaced, I'm not watchful, they say I wish I'd listened, they said it would end this way.
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Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 7:44 PM UTC
Trusting
Today from the atrium the oleanders crept. It has been coming, I have foreseen it in the dark where soil is kept, in spider cracking windows and the pale greenery's lost steps. though I had once thought the escape to be inept. I used to worry their fragile buds, when seeking freedom from prism light, would not survive the harsh transition would not survive the come-on night. Now I see the morning to come after the midnight run would be the first light born, negative the shield, through which the oleanders used to see: the dawn, the triumph, oh the sight, The harmony of the dew with daylight's furious might and the sun breaking the way - it makes the gloom so bright while I, in my room with my pill candy and my sheets: the white is just too white and the walls are Mary clean. I watch them from my window and I hunger at the sight. I envy them their beauty, their strength, and their flight.
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Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
The Atrium
September. remember, back in school being seniors meant we had rule. we were on top and nothing would make us stop. but that didn't mean i didnt have deep secrets in my dreams. school had just begun back when we still had the sun. but i had clouds closing in thought i didn't tell a soul. so i began my journey into the deep, dark, hole. October. remember, when the days grew dark so fast. but that didn't stop others from having a blast. when i was asked to go, i always said no. because when the sun set, that reminder became a threat. i was busy gathering what i need to carry out my one last final deed. November. remember. remember november? i know you do. i know you wish it wasn't true. i know you wish i could make it undo. but don't you see, what people do or say really does hurt me. if you already know that, why did you call me fat? if you already knew i was sad, why did you save what you had? if you dont know why, why did you let me die? remember? back in november? sunday night to monday morning. my heart stopped beating. happy 18th, baby girl. watch your blood swirl. onto the floor or down the drain. outside her window, it rained, and rained, and rained. 3 empty bottles by her bed. mother's hands holding her head. paramedics write it off as suicide; her own hands is how she died. now, i know you remember. back to december. seniors you were, but everything became a sudden blur. all the tears, being blinked away. wishing i could have stayed. now that i'm gone, you finally realize what you had ll along. even though you're too late, you'll treat this matter with more weight. i wish you knew before monday morning, at 12:02. september began. october started to show. november held all the signs. december you are undermined. remember how you felt back in december? feelings of then will teach you when it happens again. so please, learn from my death and me. save the one for whose life can be foreseen. and lastly, make me a promise, never ever forget. always remember december.
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Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
-Remember Back To December-
September. remember, back in school being seniors meant we had rule. we were on top and nothing would make us stop. but that didn't mean i didnt have deep secrets in my dreams. school had just begun back when we still had the sun. but i had clouds closing in thought i didn't tell a soul. so i began my journey into the deep, dark, hole. October. remember, when the days grew dark so fast. but that didn't stop others from having a blast. when i was asked to go, i always said no. because when the sun set, that reminder became a threat. i was busy gathering what i need to carry out my one last final deed. November. remember. remember november? i know you do. i know you wish it wasn't true. i know you wish i could make it undo. but don't you see, what people do or say really does hurt me. if you already know that, why did you call me fat? if you already knew i was sad, why did you save what you had? if you dont know why, why did you let me die? remember? back in november? sunday night to monday morning. my heart stopped beating. happy 18th, baby girl. watch your blood swirl. onto the floor or down the drain. outside her window, it rained, and rained, and rained. 3 empty bottles by her bed. mother's hands holding her head. paramedics write it off as suicide; her own hands is how she died. now, i know you remember. back to december. seniors you were, but everything became a sudden blur. all the tears, being blinked away. wishing i could have stayed. now that i'm gone, you finally realize what you had ll along. even though you're too late, you'll treat this matter with more weight. i wish you knew before monday morning, at 12:02. september began. october started to show. november held all the signs. december you are undermined. remember how you felt back in december? feelings of then will teach you when it happens again. so please, learn from my death and me. save the one for whose life can be foreseen. and lastly, make me a promise, never ever forget. always remember december.
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104
Limbs overlap and our souls tangle in an      unimaginable infinity Your ragged breath overtakes my whispered        sighs I can no longer decipher where you end and I     begin We lay in clouds of euphoria Basking in the miraculous presence of an                 unknown God and an inevitable death I am barely aware of the hours passing while your fingertips trace the beauty you interpret as     my pale skin Who could have foreseen this tantalizing joining     of flesh Neither you nor I seem to care as we rest in the     other's glorious embrace
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 12:01 PM UTC
Inseparable
We'll synchronize our hearts, And play sweet music to the beat. Our love will be forever, In our souls and in the sheets. We'll bump and sway, To that rhythm in our hearts. And we'll never faulter, To where it ends, from where it starts. We'll listen to that melody, Coming from inside. And you'll know in your heart, I'll always be by your side.
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Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
Foreseen to the Beat
Reflected, an iris      of colored contexts      that once had reception without spectacles.       I signed voluntarily the letters to a name      that I sincerely wanted to keep.       I tried to limit the lines      that divided the print      of a written statement of deliverance;      a sealed inner sanctum      that has remained defunct      while displaced of force      all along devout of a substance,       my words strived to be read      ingrained on paper      placed in constants      among summations of variables       clearly he scribed drafts      maintaining a patterned      complex of metaphors      only to contradict       the expressions layered,      confusing this thinker      so that the reader      may interpret a plausible       audibility for thought       looking beyond spectrums      of what is to be foreseen
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Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 2:30 PM UTC
the plastic bag smile (have a nice day !)
each moment perceives new ecstasies through me, as vision locks on every shifting road still leading home, most fervently. percolated dreams reveal the seeds that have been well concealed. as each moment waves so delicately mimicking a cloth in the breeze, in the breath of an exhale  a future is foreseen within me. ॐ boiling from me is the steam of my awareness, as the torch within now flares. flowing gently into the air I breathe, consciousness solidifies chemically; vibrant harmony extends, as minds eye stares. at this place inside me where I will dwell eternally, embracing all I've made. despite a razor thin gaze, all roads lead home.
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Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 1:45 PM UTC
lantern
You seem like the stars in the sky, the moon of the night the first drop of rain, the antidote to my pain. It could have bled forever,but you stepped in, breathing life into those far off dreams; starlit eyes, i had not foreseen just like fresh air ,when i was drowning. not a desire,but a necessity. You were my need, I was your want, Baby, I expected a turnaround And all my nights were spent in vain hope of your replies that never came I loved you with a red flame your condescending behavior turned it into ashes. Maybe I was a foolish dreamer, maybe you were supposed to be just a daydream, but maybe I hoped I would be the one... .but I became one of the ones not every story has an end and i loved you enough to walk away. i could not make you love me when we were together maybe my absence'll make you appreciate my love a li'l better. And I could have wait forever, but it seems in vain, one and one makes two, but one looks the other way, and it could have gone forever, and maybe we were meant to be, but goodbye is now, all I see. so for now all words have been said. this is my final farewell. come ,let the two of us be strangers again.
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Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 7:48 AM UTC
Come..let the two of us be strangers again
What's the meaning to begin And continue till the end The answers are hidden in my fading soul. They are staring right at me Why won't anyone believe? As I'm looking out my window, They wave goodbye. Everything is said and done, Everyone as had their fun, Time to make my exit from this fairytale. My departure was foreseen From the very beginning, Living life live of full sanity, goodbye. Hello me, It's nice to meet you, Haven't I seen you somewhere before? It said: "Goodbye, my dear sweetheart, It was so nice to meet you, Oh my, we haven't talked in quite a while!" Insanity, The weight of the air is torture. Psychopathy, Breathing's not natural anymore Insanity, The illusion of ignorance Captivity, Forever doing a puppet's dance. Insanity, It's like i'm floating on air Psychopathy, Live life with too many cares. Insanity, These illusion never end. Captivity, Behind bars that never bend. The corruption goes on... Sanity... Light is peeking through the darkness, Purity... Don't feel anymore of the stress. Sanity... It's already fading away... Cruelty... DARKNESS GOT A HOLD OF ME!!!
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Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 6:22 PM UTC
Insanity
Ever so changing like a rhyme Color Never Bound Falling down one at a time Going Sinking Ground Shivering alone, not really seen Cold Lonely Freezing Waiting for what cannot be foreseen Counting Faith Believing Distant thunder calls for rain Dripping Dropping Crying Inside feeling nothing but pain Never Stop Trying As the seasons change, so does the weather Spring Summer Fall Love keeps all things together Emotions Conquer All
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Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
Love: A Falling Leaf
With a sunset stormed in all the evils A creeping temptation to abomination A swirling appeal to haphazardness Then came a wild night when i let things go An ordinary aberration from a chaotic junction An occasional stray from a lost path An intentional overlook of unscrupulous mischief A through misjudgment under ruthless predicaments With a sobering dawn i found myself A delusional justification for foreseen consequences An unconscientious injection of fleeting remedies A deliberate neglect for recurring failures A self-inflicted blindness to vindicate oneself from misery Then it is a calm morning Though i know that it is all in the history I cannot avoid the reappearing of the serene night Whose other side awaits the furious storm to shatter me down yet again
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
The night before the storm
Is the occultist aware she’s daring, That she carries the shadiest orifice? No. She just defecates and scars remain. Akin to the likes of an unmarketable comedian: passion on one side, narcissism on the other. ‘Twas unforeseen. Enemies working together, Exchanging callous banknotes. No one had foreseen this. Eventually, she’ll ******* from depositing and withdrawing. But no one knows. No one can ever know.
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Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Beatbox Of A Satanist