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"misjudge" poems
time and tide waits for none nor does the soldier of the battle won swift as the light that pass the mist crept the landmass thunder and lightning left out when the major called out ahoy! all brave men the sons of the Ganges terrain reach out to the far north where the enemy slept forth show no mercy for you'l receive none feel no pain and march as one here's the ensign to raise up aloft think of the weary deeds that you've got let the din of cannon shred the rhythm to carry you in right tread never panic when the men grew wear wave the standard to shook the fear never misjudge the foe as weak but remember your oath to our peak never fall when ponderous struck never halt when stark strike fight till your warmth is turned icy then the hawkish eyes will see the unbeaten soul stamped on Indian lads the mortal's robes you 've clad holds the blessings of thousand which will retain your soul and spirit even when the tricolor is laid on the honored graves made hold tightly like limpet till success is met march brave Indians with gusto and show them you are a maestro draw your sword across to pierce the devil's heart across
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May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
THE MAJOR'S COMMAND
Teacup, you probably don't know this but I'm fighting trying to find a way to make you happy, to brighten your day, but the lighting is out of place, and I've been facing demons alone. Teacup, home is everything that's by your side, so don't try to hide, please don't say goodbye because I'm running out of answers, the question dances in my mind, how much more can I take was I one of your mistakes, did I misjudge the situation I'm in. Teacup, you probably don't know this but I'm fighting trying to find a way to make you smile, even if it's just for a while I would survive the wild just with the thought of your smile. Everything positive I have felt, has started with meeting you, so renew the starting hand we've been dealt and find a new way to overcome the lightning, the clouds and the thunder. Bring us closer under the spell of love. Teacup, you probably don't know this but I'm fighting but I'm losing you and it's scaring me... I'm fighting but I'm losing you...
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Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 3:58 AM UTC
Teacup
gives exquisite attention speaks with grace flowing through the room touching everyone Groundhog day six weeks later telling you your life story though you might have just met I tell my son be careful son, (also reminding this heart of mine, you'd better not walk that line) Look in the eyes there's a white light shinning focused right on you feels so good easy to misjudge what you're seeing easy to take for granted The day it's going to come The white light blinking out The exquisite attention somewhere else (This heart of mine, I put on notice) I also tell my son, be careful.
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Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
Heartbreaker
As evolution jumped from eon to eon, the foundational hunger to remain surpassed all bounds this great celestial has ever witnessed in its cosmic disturbance. How must Mars and Jupiter, these stars in the sky view the deep blue that flooded the desolate, a clump of collected debris basking in the ultraviolet, unable to resist the presence of life, ever-so unwanted and needless to exist? For our neighbors in the sky, glancing our way in their soulless façade, they gossip to their peers about the news over here, the autumnal shift from emerald to bronze, willows who wept in the heat of summer days, dandelions dotting the ridges of a rolling hillside, at times dipping their toes in the whispering waters of a backyard creek caressing the moss atop smooth and shimmering stones. From nothing you surged as entropy evermore, and from everything you share your entities, the very body you call your own, the breath you maintain in this cyclical palindrome; as mere extensions of the singularity’s core, you find yourself in this position of awe, gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen. How fortunate we are to find ourselves here in a sea of tumultuous chaos, conscious and ever-so present in the discovery of knowledge. To look to the past through a tubular lens and remain unknowing of time’s present state, the physical probabilities of potentials unforeseen bending the rays of time to juxtapose new and old; reality remains a pervasive illusion evading the grasps of human cognition. Our consciousness supersedes the premise of us all, but our curiosity quivers in the breath of the meaningless; how could something so rare and inconceivable surmount to nothing more than the imminent emergence of an empty abyss? We must never misjudge the reign of the cosmos, lose all hope that nothing awaits -- this I will not believe.   From nothing I surged as entropy evermore, and from everything I share my entities, the very body I call my own, the breath I maintain in this cyclical palindrome; as mere extensions of the singularity’s core, I find myself in this position of awe, gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen.
0
Mar 6, 2024
Mar 6, 2024 at 3:22 AM UTC
A rumination on the premise of us all.
As evolution jumped from eon to eon, the foundational hunger to remain surpassed all bounds this great celestial has ever witnessed in its cosmic disturbance. How must Mars and Jupiter, these stars in the sky view the deep blue that flooded the desolate, a clump of collected debris basking in the ultraviolet, unable to resist the presence of life, ever-so unwanted and needless to exist? For our neighbors in the sky, glancing our way in their soulless façade, they gossip to their peers about the news over here, the autumnal shift from emerald to bronze, willows who wept in the heat of summer days, dandelions dotting the ridges of a rolling hillside, at times dipping their toes in the whispering waters of a backyard creek caressing the moss atop smooth and shimmering stones. From nothing you surged as entropy evermore, and from everything you share your entities, the very body you call your own, the breath you maintain in this cyclical palindrome; as mere extensions of the singularity’s core, you find yourself in this position of awe, gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen. How fortunate we are to find ourselves here in a sea of tumultuous chaos, conscious and ever-so present in the discovery of knowledge. To look to the past through a tubular lens and remain unknowing of time’s present state, the physical probabilities of potentials unforeseen bending the rays of time to juxtapose new and old; reality remains a pervasive illusion evading the grasps of human cognition. Our consciousness supersedes the premise of us all, but our curiosity quivers in the breath of the meaningless; how could something so rare and inconceivable surmount to nothing more than the imminent emergence of an empty abyss? We must never misjudge the reign of the cosmos, lose all hope that nothing awaits -- this I will not believe.   From nothing I surged as entropy evermore, and from everything I share my entities, the very body I call my own, the breath I maintain in this cyclical palindrome; as mere extensions of the singularity’s core, I find myself in this position of awe, gazing at the consequences never meant to be seen.
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48
(for my daughter, Mary Ann, soon fourteen) I was eleven years old when I first had something taken from me. My parents were still married and my two younger brothers had not yet chosen to choose differently which one they’d live with. My dog had not yet been made lame by a falling fat man who’d taken the gift of my father’s strange rage square on the nose. And my older sister had yet to misjudge her jump from a moving train. No, none of these things, whether they happened or not how I’ve remembered, had happened. I was eleven years old and in love with an old red bike. It had a license plate that obnoxiously read Go Now Mega which I’d scratched at with a fork and so became Gnome. I would fail my whole life to accomplish a thing greater. Before school, I’d walk the bike carefully to the end of our short drive and then seat myself on it and be still. I would often be so perfect in my stillness that I’d forego riding it and just listen for the bus and at the last possible moment walk the bike, still carefully, back into the garage and cringe at the sound the kickstand made when lowered. If ever school didn’t go my way I’d think of the bike, alone, in the garage and be calmed. When I did ride the bike, I did so slowly and deliberately that I could feel my soul get a bit ahead of me. On the best mornings, I would have for company a bed sheet of fog which made me want to fake being asleep on the couch while my mother and father milled back and forth about who would carry me to bed. The bike had come with the rental house we moved into just shy of my tenth birthday. The house was a three bedroom one floor with one bathroom and what felt like two kitchens. I was too close to my hands and feet to now recall any vision that might tell me how these rooms were mapped though I’ve always held aloft the word blueprint. I should tell you that what I previously called a garage was actually our backyard and that our backyard was really the backyard of those living in the house behind ours. I didn’t want you to know right away who took the bike. Who’ve no imagination.
0
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
Hold, melancholy
(for my daughter, Mary Ann, soon fourteen) I was eleven years old when I first had something taken from me. My parents were still married and my two younger brothers had not yet chosen to choose differently which one they’d live with. My dog had not yet been made lame by a falling fat man who’d taken the gift of my father’s strange rage square on the nose. And my older sister had yet to misjudge her jump from a moving train. No, none of these things, whether they happened or not how I’ve remembered, had happened. I was eleven years old and in love with an old red bike. It had a license plate that obnoxiously read Go Now Mega which I’d scratched at with a fork and so became Gnome. I would fail my whole life to accomplish a thing greater. Before school, I’d walk the bike carefully to the end of our short drive and then seat myself on it and be still. I would often be so perfect in my stillness that I’d forego riding it and just listen for the bus and at the last possible moment walk the bike, still carefully, back into the garage and cringe at the sound the kickstand made when lowered. If ever school didn’t go my way I’d think of the bike, alone, in the garage and be calmed. When I did ride the bike, I did so slowly and deliberately that I could feel my soul get a bit ahead of me. On the best mornings, I would have for company a bed sheet of fog which made me want to fake being asleep on the couch while my mother and father milled back and forth about who would carry me to bed. The bike had come with the rental house we moved into just shy of my tenth birthday. The house was a three bedroom one floor with one bathroom and what felt like two kitchens. I was too close to my hands and feet to now recall any vision that might tell me how these rooms were mapped though I’ve always held aloft the word blueprint. I should tell you that what I previously called a garage was actually our backyard and that our backyard was really the backyard of those living in the house behind ours. I didn’t want you to know right away who took the bike. Who’ve no imagination.
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4
Getting left behind Not being loved No one understanding No one caring are my fears I had a dream I was lost No one tried to find me No one cared No one listened, understood Feeling left out Feeling like no one understands Feeling like No one can hear me when I’m screaming to be heard Destructive behavior I have Wishing I could change Wishing I could make it better Wishing for another chance Wishing for someone who will come and save me from myself. my fears not being heard being left behind not being understood no one caring. how can I disappear? Make people understand. Disappear from this world Show people what it's like to worry, misunderstand, not care. my fears, people laugh people tease people misjudge people misunderstand me. Behind my back, they laugh, tease, hurt, so I can't see them. It hurts. Now, I hide this pain in my heart making sure no one sees my hurt. Pretending to be someone I'm not. Trying so hard to fit in, to cover the scars, trying so hard, to be liked by you. My feelings disappearing No regrets Hoping no one resents me. After my dream ended, I wondered... What am I leaving.. When I leave here? The pain I've caused. The hurt,the disappointments, the worries Hoping, now people understand, people miss, people hear me, and others Forgetting all: all the pain, and hurt I learned to hide inside, buried deep in my heart. No way out My fears...are these..
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Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Understanding Is Something That Is Very Hard To Understand
people always talk too much and I try to sleep anyway but silence is hard to come by and you must silence everything with a knife. (purebred aggressiveness is preferable to casual ****** even when solace arrives in the morning, as punctual as the mail, your bloodstained hands have still come away empty and you still want to be held. (too bad you don't let nobody touch you, too bad they get the idea after the riposte to the heart) Of course they have survived it; we lived in a civilized day and age, after all,but they will still steal furtive glances at you, like they're waiting for something to drain away the remaining time until you next explode. it's a fair price to pay for the skill to breathe words like mere ambient gases, for free thought and a good pen. at least , I fell for it. I was never good at bartering, and what more could I ask than to wield words? and so the cycle continues! life,death,ashes to egg,egg to firebird, firebird to ashes. people will continue to misjudge where they've stabbed you and you will continue to obediently burn all letters and end up listening to Thom Yorke sing about cheap *** and sad films.
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
burnt letters
Another day has passed by The moon illuminates up high Shining through the window's blinds The cold wind begun to crawl behind The crickets I hear made me unknot Such a stressful day for a youth A day of harrassment became so blunt A part of me was lost like a missing tooth I was intimidated by the fact The truth that I was bullied by the society Daggers of words are still intact Cornering me in a room full of despondency I let people disgust me I let them misjudge my sincerity I let the day becomes my misery I let the day becomes the night of melancholy Tick-tock-tick-tock Here it comes, it's three o'clock It's time for happiness until five It's the moment of being alive Finally, I have found peace Where my heart is feeling glee In a jocund room that I please A room that has Him and me It was then three o'clock; where my soul peacefully lays Wandering like a soft cloud And the chirping of birds play I thank God for being loved.
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
Three O'clock
Picking you up Tears fall down my face As I look into your eyes The ones I once loved There is nothing. Holding you in mid air I ask, "WHY?" Angry and hurt, I curse you It was my heart, my heart Not yours....never yours. The beautiful smiles The innocent heart Dying just to be loved Lips like that of rose petals No other soul so complete. As I hold you in my hands The reflection I see, is not you Lest mine eyes misjudge the reflection It is evil that lurks about you Slithering through your veins. Afraid of my discovery I fall to my knees Asking God for the forgiveness Of the crime I am about to commit Killing the only one I ever truly loved. Holding you higher, I glare into your eyes Once what was beautiful, is now evil I loved you, I needed you, you killed me Now your death awaits you Here in my own loving hands. As I lower you into my arms I look deep into your eyes The Porcelain doll I once loved Who's beauty captivated the world Most of all, captured my heart. Your head I bash onto the floor Awaiting to hear you scream Each time I bash, I yell every word that reminds me of who you truly are Deceitful, liar, dishonest, and fake. To your death I take you Leaving you no time to beg As for me, I am once again complete Knowing that you cannot hurt me anymore I am strong, and I will survive. As for you, my sweet, little porcelain doll You shall forever be nothing more Than pieces of my life that I ripped apart thrown into a plastic bag Buried in your favorite rose garden. Everyday as I walk passed this garden That we so lovingly planted together I smile, not in remembrance of you But in remembrance of the life you gave to me, and the death I gave to you.... My little Porcelain Doll.
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Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 11:41 AM UTC
My Little Porcelain Doll
Picking you up Tears fall down my face As I look into your eyes The ones I once loved There is nothing. Holding you in mid air I ask, "WHY?" Angry and hurt, I curse you It was my heart, my heart Not yours....never yours. The beautiful smiles The innocent heart Dying just to be loved Lips like that of rose petals No other soul so complete. As I hold you in my hands The reflection I see, is not you Lest mine eyes misjudge the reflection It is evil that lurks about you Slithering through your veins. Afraid of my discovery I fall to my knees Asking God for the forgiveness Of the crime I am about to commit Killing the only one I ever truly loved. Holding you higher, I glare into your eyes Once what was beautiful, is now evil I loved you, I needed you, you killed me Now your death awaits you Here in my own loving hands. As I lower you into my arms I look deep into your eyes The Porcelain doll I once loved Who's beauty captivated the world Most of all, captured my heart. Your head I bash onto the floor Awaiting to hear you scream Each time I bash, I yell every word that reminds me of who you truly are Deceitful, liar, dishonest, and fake. To your death I take you Leaving you no time to beg As for me, I am once again complete Knowing that you cannot hurt me anymore I am strong, and I will survive. As for you, my sweet, little porcelain doll You shall forever be nothing more Than pieces of my life that I ripped apart thrown into a plastic bag Buried in your favorite rose garden. Everyday as I walk passed this garden That we so lovingly planted together I smile, not in remembrance of you But in remembrance of the life you gave to me, and the death I gave to you.... My little Porcelain Doll.
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56
A powerful paw strikes the earth Strong since your day of birth A spat of dust arises A cloud that disguises A future with you in it that is bright You who is bathed in divine light For those who misjudge And appear to begrudge Your luminous essence Most evident in your presence Simply put, they are not needed And for you, these words are to be heeded Just as orchestral sounds swell with the howling song of oboe The world, too, swells from your howling song, for U R Lobo
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Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
Lobo
Currently I'm locked up, in this stupid hospital, baby on the way and no father in sight. Sadly its my fault & my fate, love didn't love me, love beat and misjudge me, now thou I had time to think. Reflect and it's come to the conclusions that we maybe wasn't meant to be. God how his touch sent me raven mad... How his kisses drove me to loose myself, his arms strong & tight around me hugging squeezing and caressing me. his lustful ****** hurting yet I'd beg for more, his legs entwined with mines and our lips locked while tongues fought to be the main concubine! Friendship then lovers, lovers becoming boyfriend & girlfriend, then we planned to walk down the aisle. Man & wife! Trusting in disbelief. until the lies seemed so real... Until the mornings mingled with night... Until my body cried out for peace... ******** release even when I didn't want him to- he'd plead & take what was now not given. Hurting from black & blue eyes that never cry, not anymore..... God how his touch sent me raven mad... (running fast when I could) How his kisses drove me to loose myself-RESPECT, his arms strong & tight around me hugging squeezing MY THROAT - caressing me in to submission . His lustful ****** hurting- I'd beg him to STOP... His legs entwined with mines and he wresltes me to the bed... Our lips locked, I'd try to bite- while we fought... Currently I'm locked up, in this stupid hospital, baby on the way and no father in sight. Have to be here until I give birth.... My love (for him) was my undoing..... My curse is siting here staring at these walls.... I'd rather he mistreated me all over again.... Cuz I still sadly love him (yet again I now know better) Love hurt me, mistreated me & used me.... Misjudge me...... Love abused me and took all my will away .... Left in it's wake- A Baby's on HIS way! (I don't believe in "love" anymore) Feb 2011
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Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 2:19 AM UTC
FEB 2011
Currently I'm locked up, in this stupid hospital, baby on the way and no father in sight. Sadly its my fault & my fate, love didn't love me, love beat and misjudge me, now thou I had time to think. Reflect and it's come to the conclusions that we maybe wasn't meant to be. God how his touch sent me raven mad... How his kisses drove me to loose myself, his arms strong & tight around me hugging squeezing and caressing me. his lustful ****** hurting yet I'd beg for more, his legs entwined with mines and our lips locked while tongues fought to be the main concubine! Friendship then lovers, lovers becoming boyfriend & girlfriend, then we planned to walk down the aisle. Man & wife! Trusting in disbelief. until the lies seemed so real... Until the mornings mingled with night... Until my body cried out for peace... ******** release even when I didn't want him to- he'd plead & take what was now not given. Hurting from black & blue eyes that never cry, not anymore..... God how his touch sent me raven mad... (running fast when I could) How his kisses drove me to loose myself-RESPECT, his arms strong & tight around me hugging squeezing MY THROAT - caressing me in to submission . His lustful ****** hurting- I'd beg him to STOP... His legs entwined with mines and he wresltes me to the bed... Our lips locked, I'd try to bite- while we fought... Currently I'm locked up, in this stupid hospital, baby on the way and no father in sight. Have to be here until I give birth.... My love (for him) was my undoing..... My curse is siting here staring at these walls.... I'd rather he mistreated me all over again.... Cuz I still sadly love him (yet again I now know better) Love hurt me, mistreated me & used me.... Misjudge me...... Love abused me and took all my will away .... Left in it's wake- A Baby's on HIS way! (I don't believe in "love" anymore) Feb 2011
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36
You only judge; Or misjudge, the minimal effort you saw while my mind was gagged and bound The many breakdowns you were a part of where no fix could be found And the deluged of tears you hardly stuck around long enough to see hit the ground You never asked; About the profound effort of simply starting a day on the day priors rebound About the countless cries that tried to break through the red tape but never found sound Or about the tears I was told weren't allowed to form with other people around Leaving me to question; Can a life be built on the middle ground? I guess the more important question is, Do you desire to turn this thing around? Is there any interest, What-so-ever, In seeing if a middle can even be found? I'd appreciate your response but don't expect to see one come around Fool heartedly yours, The Crying Clown ©2024
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Jun 13, 2024
Jun 13, 2024 at 2:58 PM UTC
~•§•~ Finding a Middle ~•§•~
I am not normal I am something different I am something unique I am a tide of change 'Cause in a place I live It's okay to be who you want It's okay to choose who you are It's okay to love who you like And it's okay to ne true to you 'Cause I have grown up in a garden of love Far away from the fists of hatred Far away from the eyes of misjudge Far away from the jaws of insult Far away from minds too old 'Cause I have nurtured in the hands of god I preach to love all the same I plead to break all the barriers And for once realize We are all the same blood and flesh
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Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 1:06 PM UTC
A Garden of Love
Don't misjudge me Don't be scared I just have a broken heart Yet to be repaired
0
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Repair
So many things to look at – pretty Girls with short hair, long hair, Brunettes and blondes Short and tall – they have secrets They’ve got them all The nice ones, too stuck on plans To ever be free, college and marriage Is all the dreams the see The tall ones, those with Beautiful smiles and smoking bodies Their lights blotted out by insecurities But who of them will look through me And who can see the person That I’d truly wish to be I stand here, waiting for something In between it all; someone who Sees me for that which I am A girl that doesn’t run from the skeletons In my Titanic-sizes closet And doesn’t die from boredom When I sit still, when times get calm But I’ve been here before And I loved my time here, yet How could I even sit still With the cries I hear at night I'm clueless as to how to fall in love I think it should have happened At this point, or maybe even long before My mouth and lips are on someone’s thighs The cheap guitar I own, neglected in the corner You and me, for now, is all there is It won’t last long Until I won’t see you Just like you never Truly saw me.
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May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
I misjudge you; you misjudge me
Fickle fortress is her lair A silent maiden is waiting there don't misjudge her ,for heavens knows She need no rescue, she comes from below You waltz in sword in hand ready to defend for your a galent young man you realize not that , this is a trap better back up,while you have the chance The room is shaking the spinning wheel turns As sinners do the maiden grins She takes your hand and drags you down She takes all you have Even your sound Back to rest she lays down until another fool comes around
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Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC
The Maiden
I wish I could sing. And maybe I can, But I want the voice that will give people chills And lull them to sleep. That soft beautiful voice that always seems prominent In movies. I want to create a melody That tells a story, even if there are no audible words. And I want robe able to show my emotions clearly, So people will not misjudge me.
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Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
Melody
Some might think I’m crazy To bad I’m a lunatic It’s funny they all misperceive me They see the weird looks And all the time I’m writing to myself “They misjudge me” And only if they knew I’m much worse off then they think But only by their perception Because I’m happy being insane See everyday is different And when I see them I think “These people must be insane” They treat everyday as mundane
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Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
Lunacy
If my trust in you was a form of art, surely my mistake was my masterpiece Two organisms without Eyes blindly react to each touch Each payment does not add to much how did you see me through stained glass? and I'm guilty of hiding but was I hiding? Or were you denying my pure intention? Would one consider that lesson, Or did I misjudge you for someone with pure intention?
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Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 11:59 AM UTC
Through Stained Glass
From us it virtually generates, a vivid dictionary entry form it mimicks. Gets to assess/anticipate storm, bypassing sabotage with emulation at its core It clicks with us. If one were to create this paravessel subject to pitfalls so critical, its snappy truths would mislead A whole review that's faster than a line to read. Does it mean that i owe you nothing, i still may dwell on my valuable ****** experience? These patterns seem an oxymoron: Efficient yet alarming. If one were to contemplate so peculiar a world, Full of next-gen era outlandish jobs, Be based on this extrapolation let it not. I carry substance, Although disproportionately, Which you might overuse, misjudge, or subjugate. They meddle with it, the tech-savvy reptiles. We may further copypaste and carry no substance other than what we had disproportionately created.
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Apr 4, 2023
Apr 4, 2023 at 5:11 AM UTC
Chatting with AI
I have been told by so many that I explain myself so well That my sense of understanding is so great that they are proud to tell me It is good that I can understand so well But what does this do of good for me If I can't ever understand what others want of me I always misjudge the situations And think that something is going good when really I am just stepping on landmines Pretending the flying limbs are flowers floating in the air How can I not see that If I am so good with understanding? I am beginning to doubt if I am ever going to be happy Because all the happiness I ever had was created illusions in my head like a puppet on a string I forced myself to dance joyfully throughout a life; that I did not even enjoy A big smile on my face after everytime I cry A big laugh though my soul mourns with the sounds of trees breaking in the wind A hollow feeling of always walking on a path which carries old imprinted footprints from people whom walked here before me But instead of creating my own I step in theirs; To ignore the fact that my footprints are taking this journey alone when others have been accompanied on theirs
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Understanding
You make me into something I’m not You spread lies and misjudge me I want to be angry I know I deserve to be You tell me the same thing You try to change my mind But I know what I want And I know you’re not kind And I know you’re reading this, Mia And you know this isn’t about you This isn’t about anyone in particular But you should be angry too
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May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 10:28 AM UTC
I Should Be Angry
I hate emotional attachment It scares me They grab my heart and ****** it I feel out of control And I get sad Without them, I don't even feel whole This burden is too much I can't play these games It's confusing and I misjudge My love's the greatest thing I give I hand it out so freely But then they steal it and I can't live I must step back in my life And regain control of my heart On my own, I can see the light Right now, I'm in the dark Overshadowed by the fake emotion Take it back, I'd rather be apart Nothing is worse Than giving yourself Wholeheartedly And getting nothing in return I think I'll stop now And just feel the burn I'll get over it eventually And then I'll start to see Who's actually there for me
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Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 9:41 AM UTC
**** It
It's just a little word But the pain really hurt Never misjudge it No matter how small it is Never underestimate stress The reason of my unwell rest My life will be the cost My soul will be a ghost When stress is your daily mood You will know the truth That the monster is not under your bed Instead it screams inside your head
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Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 12:50 AM UTC
Stress
Don't treat me like that Don't look at me like that Don't smile at me like that Don't take my side when i fight Because I often misjudge treat I often misread eyes I often misunderstand smiles and acts I hate it when they turned out just a normal treat, look, smile and act When I don't normally receive that.
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
Just Don't.