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"pein" poems
Even a foolish child can grow up in the right way When he learns what pain is Knowing pain controls one's thoughts and decisions It can discern the difference between goals and wishes. If you don't share someone's pain, you can never understand them Which will create the same underhand men But just because you can understand them Doesn't mean you can come to an agreement Because what you value may not mean anything to them. We're both of the same breed, after all We all fall Motives for war are of no concern, the World will continue to burn Religion, ideology, resources, land, grudges, love, or just because As long as there is cause,  it's enough to start a war. Reasons can be thought up after the fact, human nature pursues strife In fact, that is the purpose of human life You think you're the only ones who matters!? You think the world will go by your standards!? You and I are no different We each act according to our own sense of justice We do whatever we need to do for ourselves. Dying like trash, never ending hatred, pain that never heals You think you can put off death? You must accept    That peace made you foolish and thoughtless None are selfless If you **** someone, someone else will **** you That is true This hatred binds us together Forever I want you to feel pain, to think about pain, to accept pain, to know pain.
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Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Ode To Pein
Ich zünde für dein Wohlergehn, das Licht der Liebe an Mit deinem Herzen wirst du sehn wie hell es leuchten kann Es dringt durch alle Poren bis in die letzte Zelle Du bist wie neu geboren durch diese Lichterquelle Mit unverzagtem Mut und unbeugsamer Kraft steigst du aus dieser Glut voll purem Lebenssaft Streckst deine Flügel aus und schüttelst alle Sorgen ins Dunkel weit hinaus fühlst dich im Licht geborgen Es wird dich immer schützen vor großer Not und Pein oder zumindest stützen sollt’s doch mal anders sein
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Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 5:11 PM UTC
Licht der Liebe
I’ve been looking in the mirror Every day since I was three, Till a week ago I looked again And saw it wasn’t me. For this haggard face with wrinkles And grey hair that should be black, Took my place within the mirror, And it stood there, staring back. Sure, it registered surprise and seemed To stare, and be in shock, And behind me in the mirror stood Our old grandfather clock, It was ticking off the moments, All that I had left of life, So in case it was an omen, then I thought I’d call the wife. ‘Can you see that ancient visage In the glass, Penelope? It’s supposed to be my image But I think it isn’t me,’ And Penelope had stood and stared Then shook her greying hair, ‘Yes, that scar was on your left cheek, dear, But now it isn’t there.’ I was staring at the visage and It gave me quite a fright, For that scar upon my left cheek now Showed firmly on the right. And the parting in my hair was not Just where it used to be, For most everything was back to front, So who the hell was he? ‘There’s a demon in the mirror,’ I exclaimed, ‘it has my mole, And it’s come here from the devil just To claim my mortal soul,’ So I seized a ball pein hammer and Attacked the mirror glass, Till it shattered into tiny shards, That’s seven years, alas! We’ve not allowed a mirror in The house, from then to now, We won’t invite a demon in, We’ll keep him out, somehow. We know we both are ageing, but We’re not as bad as that, Penelope will paint her face, While I just wear a hat. David Lewis Paget
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Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 5:04 PM UTC
The Image
I’ve been looking in the mirror Every day since I was three, Till a week ago I looked again And saw it wasn’t me. For this haggard face with wrinkles And grey hair that should be black, Took my place within the mirror, And it stood there, staring back. Sure, it registered surprise and seemed To stare, and be in shock, And behind me in the mirror stood Our old grandfather clock, It was ticking off the moments, All that I had left of life, So in case it was an omen, then I thought I’d call the wife. ‘Can you see that ancient visage In the glass, Penelope? It’s supposed to be my image But I think it isn’t me,’ And Penelope had stood and stared Then shook her greying hair, ‘Yes, that scar was on your left cheek, dear, But now it isn’t there.’ I was staring at the visage and It gave me quite a fright, For that scar upon my left cheek now Showed firmly on the right. And the parting in my hair was not Just where it used to be, For most everything was back to front, So who the hell was he? ‘There’s a demon in the mirror,’ I exclaimed, ‘it has my mole, And it’s come here from the devil just To claim my mortal soul,’ So I seized a ball pein hammer and Attacked the mirror glass, Till it shattered into tiny shards, That’s seven years, alas! We’ve not allowed a mirror in The house, from then to now, We won’t invite a demon in, We’ll keep him out, somehow. We know we both are ageing, but We’re not as bad as that, Penelope will paint her face, While I just wear a hat. David Lewis Paget
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Jetzt leise, dann laut, niemals still, obwohl ich doch vergessen will. Oft denke ich, es wäre geschafft, aber plötzlich, mit unbändiger Kraft, drängt er hervor und ist so stark als wie zuvor, und peinigt mich, der Gedanke an dich
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Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 10:48 PM UTC
Pein