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"misleads" poems
Deplorable and horrible;                 Despicable, abhor-able; It reiterates, evaluates,               Desiccates, and exacerbates . . . It never fails, to fall too short, But always fails as a support . . . In an attempt to be freed, it misleads to bad deeds And creates a hunger -- vacuous,                                Yet, impossible to feed. It chases the light away,                                And it longs to be alone. So I am so ashamed to say,                                That in my skull,                                It found its home. So I'll fight and fight against it, . . . But I'll always lose the battle. It seems that even as I trudge ahead, That somehow I still straggle. It is the artist, I am the instrument. Like a light bulb to its filament. Every day I'm at the bottom, Forced to climb back up the hill again. But I think the day has come . . . When I've finally stopped walking. I've reached a door that can’t be opened, And decided to stop knocking . . . It's me and who I've become; It's my actions and what I've done . . . So, as much as I despise it, It seems my brain, and I, are one.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
One
I'm lost in the jungle. It's so dense and vast. Makes me wonder if I'll ever get out. I keep moving forward, trying to escape. It's no use though. The darkenss misleads me. Continuously in circles I wander. It's so hard to move. The vines engulf me.   Tangled in them I struggle. If only I had a blade, a machete of some sort. Something to free me, detach me, let me flow through this jungle as the river does.        Constricted, alone with my discomfort, I deal with the vines myself. Embrace them, natural and bare. It's hard. Feels almost impossible.   But on my own, by myself, of my own will, I sever them.   A subtle gratitude is felt. A sense of accomplishment expereinced. Glimmers of light sparkle through the canopy. A path emerges. It was obscured in the shadows of the vines. On this path the jungle feels so different. Observing the trees and creatures, There's a calmness, a peaceful harmony.    The path leads to a peak. At that summit I gaze the treetops. Shining radience touches everything. Many paths lead to this peak.     Seeing the jungle as it really is, I ponder. A realization is had. No matter where in the jungle I am, the sun is always shining. Whether I can see it or not, a pathway out is always there. Within the jungle I was lost. Above the jungle I am found.
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Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
Jungle of Thought - Depression
A little kingdom I possess where thoughts and feelings dwell, And very hard I find the task of governing it well; For passion tempts and troubles me, A wayward will misleads, And selfishness its shadow casts On all my words and deeds. How can I learn to rule myself, to be the child I should, Honest and brave, nor ever tire Of trying to be good? How can I keep a sunny soul To shine along life's way? How can I tune my little heart To sweetly sing all day? Dear Father, help me with the love that casteth out my fear; Teach me to lean on thee, and feel That thou art very near, That no temptation is unseen No childish grief too small, Since thou, with patience infinite, Doth soothe and comfort all. I do not ask for any crown But that which all may win Nor seek to conquer any world Except the one within. Be thou my guide until I find, Led by a tender hand, Thy happy kingdom in myself And dare to take command.
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2.7k
My Kingdom
fueled by alcohol swollen emotions, the age of consent and mistakenly stuck doors the mutual understanding that comes with a singular passion singular desire just one time but when the clock chimes 1:45 and curfewed kisses are few you take my hands and sing "i want to know you" my fingers weave along my glowing screen praying your given digits will be well received and when my phone buzzes i sigh for i had tried to not let doubt cloud my mind but i did not know you yet and it rarely happens like this when the clock chimes 6:00 Am my rosy cheeks wait in the cold mist a note on the table excusing my absence a pale faced taxi driver goes through the required motions to take me to your warm lips with two hours of sleep your makeshift bed is the port in a storm and your slight frame is the sort that initially misleads but it is powerful and exceeds expectations the sweet sharing of bad puns disney songs and the unexpected "i love you" the "you have beautiful eyes" and the mess that is my hair do i wake you with a warm hand to the hip and a quick kiss on the lip reassures me it was the right thing to do the twang of ukulele and its warm wood brush over my breast its hard form against my warm chest you sing for me and the poetry that traverses your lips is magic though slight you have no trouble maneuvering through my wide rivers and hidden valleys my small forests you flip me with ease a playful tease tracing racing and running soon warm water runs over our shadowy forms because though forever may be spent in bed the real world obligates us to move to shower in our travels we find ourselves caught in drizzly public transportation making our way to the place of your occupation though we are eating for two you order three breakfasts making up for the meal missed replaced with loving surrounded by kissing you drink coffee a quick pick-me-up i drink a london fog to remind me of the sleepy morning and a quick peck to the lips reminds me of the rest a test of my willpower my power to resist taking you then and there though that may have resulted in your termination so i resist my considered temptation i take a slight deviation for every story must end every sentence no matter how much love we must wait for blood because every hook up, every sentence must end with a period.
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Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
One night
fueled by alcohol swollen emotions, the age of consent and mistakenly stuck doors the mutual understanding that comes with a singular passion singular desire just one time but when the clock chimes 1:45 and curfewed kisses are few you take my hands and sing "i want to know you" my fingers weave along my glowing screen praying your given digits will be well received and when my phone buzzes i sigh for i had tried to not let doubt cloud my mind but i did not know you yet and it rarely happens like this when the clock chimes 6:00 Am my rosy cheeks wait in the cold mist a note on the table excusing my absence a pale faced taxi driver goes through the required motions to take me to your warm lips with two hours of sleep your makeshift bed is the port in a storm and your slight frame is the sort that initially misleads but it is powerful and exceeds expectations the sweet sharing of bad puns disney songs and the unexpected "i love you" the "you have beautiful eyes" and the mess that is my hair do i wake you with a warm hand to the hip and a quick kiss on the lip reassures me it was the right thing to do the twang of ukulele and its warm wood brush over my breast its hard form against my warm chest you sing for me and the poetry that traverses your lips is magic though slight you have no trouble maneuvering through my wide rivers and hidden valleys my small forests you flip me with ease a playful tease tracing racing and running soon warm water runs over our shadowy forms because though forever may be spent in bed the real world obligates us to move to shower in our travels we find ourselves caught in drizzly public transportation making our way to the place of your occupation though we are eating for two you order three breakfasts making up for the meal missed replaced with loving surrounded by kissing you drink coffee a quick pick-me-up i drink a london fog to remind me of the sleepy morning and a quick peck to the lips reminds me of the rest a test of my willpower my power to resist taking you then and there though that may have resulted in your termination so i resist my considered temptation i take a slight deviation for every story must end every sentence no matter how much love we must wait for blood because every hook up, every sentence must end with a period.
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77
In love's dances, in love's dances One retreats and one advances, One grows warmer and one colder, One more hesitant, one bolder. One gives what the other needed Once, or will need, now unheeded. One is clenched, compact, ingrowing While the other's melting, flowing. One is smiling and concealing While the other's asking kneeling. One is arguing or sleeping While the other's weeping, weeping. And the question finds no answer And the tune misleads the dancer And the lost look finds no other And the lost hand finds no brother And the word is left unspoken Till the theme and thread are broken. When shall these divisions alter? Echo's answer seems to falter: 'Oh the unperplexed, unvexed time Next time...one day...one day...next time!'
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2.1k
Black Morning Lovesong
He often asked me if I believed in love I often answered if love believed me see he was willing to fix the flame that no longer burnt when the sun left on rainy days he saw the flaws that I let escape I saw the love that he yarned to give   so I soaked my heart in his treasures never fully understanding the meaning to Love So who the **** was he kidding? Thinking I could be open to love Let’s reminisce my heart was done when josh burnt his bridges maybe when jose told me he never viewed me as His Women or maybe when I laid beside a man who never called me He told me he loved me just to undress me only to finesse me just to say he sexed me In mind he next me just to move on to the next me you know the shy girl with the heart of gold often eager to please that she misleads in ends up on a broken rode So I often asked could he see his self loving after his heart was left in a disaster? He just said Disaster aren’t final destinations
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May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
...Disaster...
Things just don't fit together like they used to. I knew I had lost many of my pieces along the way, but I was painfully unaware of the full extent of my loss. I slip and my cards fall in slow motion from my hands. I have lost my queen of hearts and I wonder if I will ever find her. My jigsaw gets smaller and I wonder what my fascination with puzzles was ever even about. Youth misleads our clumsy fingers until adolescence can guide them more clearly, but how is adolescence to know the right direction? What is our destination anyway? Where are we going? What are we trying to find? I reach under the couch and find a joker... Wait, he was joking? It shocks me like a jack in a box. How could I have been so naive? Of course his actions were insincere. They always are. They always will be. I am looking for my queen of hearts. Her jigsaw pieces slot perfectly into mine. She is not so much of a queen as a princess, but she certainly possesses many a gullible heart. She possesses my gullible, frail heart. I yearn for her crumpled, dog-eared kisses as she floats to the floor with the certain elegance of a queen. She snapped my heart, spit on the pieces and dealt me out a new hand. She does not understand... The only hand I wish to have is hers in mine. She may have gone fishing for a challenge, but there will always be too many riddles for her to answer... I lost my queen of hearts. I am puzzled. I am too afraid to gamble my love away on any other card. Once upon a time, she bet that I would give in, give up and fold her up. No, I will not fold until I have won... I will win her heart. I will win the game.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
Queen of Hearts
Things just don't fit together like they used to. I knew I had lost many of my pieces along the way, but I was painfully unaware of the full extent of my loss. I slip and my cards fall in slow motion from my hands. I have lost my queen of hearts and I wonder if I will ever find her. My jigsaw gets smaller and I wonder what my fascination with puzzles was ever even about. Youth misleads our clumsy fingers until adolescence can guide them more clearly, but how is adolescence to know the right direction? What is our destination anyway? Where are we going? What are we trying to find? I reach under the couch and find a joker... Wait, he was joking? It shocks me like a jack in a box. How could I have been so naive? Of course his actions were insincere. They always are. They always will be. I am looking for my queen of hearts. Her jigsaw pieces slot perfectly into mine. She is not so much of a queen as a princess, but she certainly possesses many a gullible heart. She possesses my gullible, frail heart. I yearn for her crumpled, dog-eared kisses as she floats to the floor with the certain elegance of a queen. She snapped my heart, spit on the pieces and dealt me out a new hand. She does not understand... The only hand I wish to have is hers in mine. She may have gone fishing for a challenge, but there will always be too many riddles for her to answer... I lost my queen of hearts. I am puzzled. I am too afraid to gamble my love away on any other card. Once upon a time, she bet that I would give in, give up and fold her up. No, I will not fold until I have won... I will win her heart. I will win the game.
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8
The vapor trails across the starry sky, they seem to span the universe but they mislead my aching heart, my searching eye. Like rainbow's end, if only there could I locate that *** of gold, I'd surely spray the vapor trails across the starry sky, to find again the one for whom I cry, yet always hopeful dreams in words I say mislead my aching heart, my searching eye. Without a *** of gold, or any prize, the floating road may yet still lead the way. Oh, vapor trails across the starry sky, if I could follow, would you be close by to my brother? My mind, now gone astray, misleads my aching heart, my searching eye. Now as I stare above, with blurring eyes, night winds have blown the vapor trails away. The vapor trails across the starry sky, mislead my aching heart, my searching eye. (C)2008, Christos Rigakos
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Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 10:12 AM UTC
The vapor trails across the starry sky
I promised myself to never write when I was depressed. And then I realized I would never write again. So yes, sadness has its flavour, a taste acquired, Like all the finer things in life, A bit of bitter often brides us better, The sweet of things misleads and makes us dull, So yes,we have arrived to suffer, to ask and persevere, Our fate is not to believe but to become, We are God in the making, we are the design. So little time.
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May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:07 AM UTC
Bit
You’d be surprised What can be accomplished With your eyes sealed to the world Stumbling in and out of love With the wrong person, The right person Standing still while The crowd moves about And you face the opposite direction Awaiting the joy Coveted and insured from bloom As it swims past your bones like a ghost The miles you drive Without taking the sights Or abiding the lines You can point and shoot You can win or lose But it holds no concern It’s the feeling of knowing you’re lost But cease to admit Because it looks like life There is no sleep to be had When you shut your eyes to the world Just an endless reaching for the walls you built Maintain balance So no one suspects And tramples the comfort you found They only see brown rust in your eyes If you never show the raw burning red And the vacancy of motive Nothing hurts so bad If you don’t stare directly at it Or ignore it altogether But when you finally open them Don’t be skittish about what you’ve found It’s only happening one blink at a time War and drugs And wars on drugs And automatic guns Disease and regret And misleads and misread And greed over guilt Smiles and words All things absurd Hunger and cures Lies and truths Bigotry and fake news Decay of education Tribalism Bibles Prisons Capital Collateral Intangibles But you’ve pulled back the curtains And you’ve drawn in the light So you must never again close your eyes
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Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 12:55 PM UTC
I Finally Opened My Eyes
we are prompted in these hours to find awareness.. awaken in the dreams we live.. to recognize a matrix disguise.. the matrix masks hides our Reality misleads our senses.. one simple form of sacred geometry gifts a key for sought transform.. a torus in motion may unclog life's flowing stream.. the torus connects light and shadow.. its motion cleanses exposing new light.. the torus introduces new energy sources with-in and with-out reaching intractable hunger and pain.. torus is ancient lost now remembered.. much yet to know but a Torus may be creeping into our morning meditations...
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Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
the Torus
They hide gifts, They hold thinking,                   stinking or otherwise, They help sort, organize, stuff,                       S.O.S. for us who need boxes and either what we own is inside a box, which'is inside a box we live in but the letters of the names are scrambled as they were dropped as I rambled past the point of no return. Then there is thinking outside the box. Compass points that are arrows to Mr. and Ms. Direction, an insurrection of sorts if your internal compass, misleads and you wrap your arms to shore up the sides which look like ribs but act like boxwalls and constrict your breathing, and you end up heaving, gasping and reaching for a paper bag, to even your breathing            to signal your leaving, anxious for this to end?                          so I can start grieving for what I never had, an imagination, without walls of cardboard. ©DWE112013
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Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
Boxes
my dreams turned to nightmares and i'm afraid i'm not getting anywhere running circles passing myself by day in , day out the seasons may change but i never do. always the same _________________ i wake up the next day and its always the ******* same my life is stuck on repeat like starting over a game that you lost but i'm getting nowhere not learning anything to help me repair its all too much and not enough. the CD has a scratch that i cannot buff much like my problems, i'm so fed up. screaming in my head 'like what the fuck' life goes on, and i'm still messed up. _______________________ my dreams turned to nightmares and i'm afraid i'm not getting anywhere running circles passing myself by life is funny , fate misleads what does it cost to just be free? the devil is waiting to be unleashed into a never ending circle
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
circles
Hate is a darkness A feeling, a sound, a phrase, a sight It's a swirling atrocity Surfacing from the deep depths of our souls Breaking through Poisoning and ravaging and tainting each perception It blinds and maims It's has no remorse It drowns, seeping into every crevice of your being, leaving nothing untouched Gradually, it consumes your soul Torn, bruised yet bursting with spite, sin, jealousy, deceit, manipulation, lies It never ends Twists, turns and misleads A game you could never possibly win, And one you've inevitably already lost In hate you find a rotten hope for violence and injustice It'll devour everything and I hope it should not afflict the world thereafter It plagues ideas and concepts It is sown amongnst us Harbouring a tendency to cast a perilous shadow Laying a trap to the unwary It befalls even the worthy and the gracious Those in love with love Those that love the light and the light of love But mostly those who love As with love there always lurks hate And with hate you extinguish the love KG
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Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
***
The network that makes you work to enrich owners It can allow you create personal space too large to fill It ***** time and you n'ere know it Keeping your fingers busy and eyes fixed Feasting on the newest and reviewing the oldest Suggesting closeness to them that live miles away Keeping you worlds away from them around you Smiling, crying, angry and depressed for the unknown Caring less, annoyed by and disregarding kin to be popular to the world unknown This network illuminates and misleads, connects and disconnects Builds the world away and destroys the one here It sells much folly and offers little wisdom It is a world outside our world Very social yet asocial
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Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 7:12 AM UTC
**Asocial Network**
Make me Believe, Begin a commitment A livid, frigid rigidity Born and bred in its misery All contemptuous purity, Misleads serene duplicity In all admissible virility, Sacrosanct and all unviable, This disposition unreliable, Outlooks not so reliable, Ridiculous and undeniable This solitary moment, Not in itself so all that potent, Releasing all these fetid rodents, Systemic linear motion Curtailing our devotion To freeing all emotion Held true by we, the free. We fall to power, victims To this inhuman system, All zealous to its deception, Information, insurrection, Categorized by failures at hand, Unaware of the faults of man.
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Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
Ignorance Of The Unaware.
There may be something that depends on thee- you hi-sprung holly which is dainty in the forest, resting in your lawless ways a cudgel of berries. Tease then, deny me, mammal inappropriate for your stock, your bounty is more for the nimble of hock, who have a stomach stranger to mine, who needs't not pay me any mind. Force here will do no good, no, which confuses me by force of reason, misleads me through whorls of rhyme. I fell in love once, it was confusing. Perhaps to un-know! Oh, how my names elude me.
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Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
There may be something that depends on thee-
I see you hurting And fear there's not much I can do The truth sometimes shatters hope, But I promise, a little goodness remains, too Maybe in time you'll see You never truly lost what you need At times, what you want Isn't what's best, but misleads Though if you wish to kick and scream Shout to the Heavens on your knees Cry in a corner or curse freely I'll stand by--now and always--caring deeply © JL Smith
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
Standby
Molly suffers from depression She's had it for ages It's okay to sit next to her What she's got isn't contagious She sees you look at her with pity But that isn't what she needs She tries to look after herself Her appearance it misleads She feels constantly tired The fatigue it gets her down She hopes she might feel better If she has a trip into town She thinks that she might pop Into the cafe for a bite But since she's been depressed She hasn't had much appetite A good night's sleep Is a distant memory Going to bed at ten at night Then up and wide-awake at three She feels so worthless And waits for the phone to ring Usually a family member Wanting a loan of something She remembers how she used to feel Before she was depressed When she didn't feel so irritable And was hardly ever stressed She feels a sense of anguish A let-down to her family They all seem to see Her depression as a malady The loss of her old self Causes her great sadness Her family tells their friends That Molly suffers from a madness They think that it is funny But don't realise the hurt That they cause to Molly If only to her former self she could revert They ring her up for no reason at all They say it’s all in fun Her depression lost her all of her friends At the mercy of daughter and son Depression is an illness That can happen to us all No matter how much money you have It’s something you can not forestall If by chance one day You see Molly in the town Why not stop and say hello Make her smile instead of frown Ask her how she is today Enquire what she has bought Depression is an illness Not a disease that can be caught
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC
Depression Isn't catching
Molly suffers from depression She's had it for ages It's okay to sit next to her What she's got isn't contagious She sees you look at her with pity But that isn't what she needs She tries to look after herself Her appearance it misleads She feels constantly tired The fatigue it gets her down She hopes she might feel better If she has a trip into town She thinks that she might pop Into the cafe for a bite But since she's been depressed She hasn't had much appetite A good night's sleep Is a distant memory Going to bed at ten at night Then up and wide-awake at three She feels so worthless And waits for the phone to ring Usually a family member Wanting a loan of something She remembers how she used to feel Before she was depressed When she didn't feel so irritable And was hardly ever stressed She feels a sense of anguish A let-down to her family They all seem to see Her depression as a malady The loss of her old self Causes her great sadness Her family tells their friends That Molly suffers from a madness They think that it is funny But don't realise the hurt That they cause to Molly If only to her former self she could revert They ring her up for no reason at all They say it’s all in fun Her depression lost her all of her friends At the mercy of daughter and son Depression is an illness That can happen to us all No matter how much money you have It’s something you can not forestall If by chance one day You see Molly in the town Why not stop and say hello Make her smile instead of frown Ask her how she is today Enquire what she has bought Depression is an illness Not a disease that can be caught
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56
By:Cedric McClester They smoke, they drink And fornicate Then claim a religion That they must hate While trying to form A new caliphate Made up of gullible people Led by an apostate He’s studied Qu’ran And got a degree But routinely misleads Muslim wannabes By proselytizing He makes ‘em agree With his twisted logic On how things should be At the risk of redundancy Let me restate What I’ve said before He’s an apostate With his own religion That’s comprised of hate And most of the uumah Does not relate Some call him Sheikh Other imam But I call him apostate Cuz I don't give a **** Despite all his followers Who’ve been programmed Into believing his dogma See they've just been scammed Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.
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Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
APOSTATE
So many things to think about, Not too many to talk about Some things are better kept locked In a dark foreboding too The time misleads the hands and feet Walking aimlessly around 100 mile town Broken down and out of society Away The time misleads eyes and ears Straining at the rainbow for the ever after Stuck in the rain, drenched and far Alone
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Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
100 Mile Town
Life and death breathe in my state of immunity death brings fate to calamity wisdom is outstandind it makes you stand our from the crowd exceedingly , I forbid but the dark still proceed I just wana dwell in the ark and suceed am a seed rooted beside the see of greatness and recrouted prosperity My heart pumps twice for winter and summer for ****** and osama B or martin luther choose what you wana breath detect and eject any pathogen that might bring a disease What does your heart concieve as it proceeds to pump use both eyes to see but if one misleads you its better to receive life in one view than to swallow a nife and never go trough
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
life and death
Mom always said not to frown If I'd had something to be happy about, my smile wouldn't of been upside down Now on my brow Is a permanent scowl Chiseled in stone From when I've grown cold People complain about crows feet But every person like that I meet I can't help but see smiling eyes A happy face has always been their guise Maybe their an optimist always seeing the glass half full Boy wouldn't that be a useful tool But it's hard not to be a pessimist when your glass is always empty Not even for my thoughts a penny Even when there is some hope and I think my cup is getting full The powers that be shows me to be quiet a fool They knock my cup over to watch me run Like a little bug under their gun Is it to much to ask for a little fun To see a little more than the midnight sun So on my face a smile can bleed Not just temporary happiness that misleads
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Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
¿Happiness?