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kelly Sep 2014
This is a story about dante and about him having nothing left with his life forgiving test...
Dantes always been quiet, sticking to himself, finding it quite hard giving his trust to someone else, he's been there, he's tried it.    
No one is exempt from being targets of his riot. But first he needs to fight his own battle from within. A small little issue that caused his anger to begin.
His dad was never there, but he always seen him everywhere. The question that will forever haunt him about why he didn't want him?
Death and iniquities find pleasure in trying to taunt him.
They want me!
everything I've been going  through is making develop some type of sick disease.
What do you demand from God when your favorite word is please when you get down on your knees.
I often wonder if you think of me often.
Memories, I held onto them for years, but then I lost them. Better yet tossed them. Mom, you did your best, and for that you should never frown again. I want to see your crown again.
laughter? You once knew it but you'll never make that sound again. You should've left dad in the same place that you found him in.
Everyone of us are in the same pool that he's drowning in. we help to hold your head up but then you always  let us down again!
Satan's at your door, with presents on the floor. You know you shouldn't answer because he's been in and out before.
Try not answering to his pounding on the door.
He laughs at your falling magnitude, then you can't be yourself because you're thinking were all mad at you.Thinking that way will have you with a self destroying attutide.
Self destruct has been on your mind while I was growing up. Look at our family now, don't you think that we're low enough? Maybe it's my fault for never asking how your holding up. I figured since your old enough that it's given that you know enough.
When your role model doesn't live enough and you know that he is giving up, how can you escape the pain when it's apart of a chain that has you lifted up?
Oh, I kinda get it now! what you do comes back to knock me down when it comes hurling back around.
I realize I'm your flaw, no drug can match me cause im more potent than them all.
It's your call.
you pint me to the wall so you would never have to see me fall. Is that better than having to stay watch you suffer, suffer though the pain while you try to fight back but you're failing to maintain?
What's really on your brain?
I'm a thinking dude, and mainly when I think I only think of you.
I bet if I pick your mind I'll find that's what you're thinking too.
I use to be the best at what I once did, remianing the best artist that is, but I don't draw anymore, all I do is write.
I find myself crawling when I know that i should stand and fight.
It's complicated. Giving up is what I seen from you, it's seemed easy from my point of view so why wouldn't i contemplate it? You taught me how to draw, i dont enjoy it anymore so you can take your teachings right back.
Lying as you left the house, promising you'd be right back.
You hurt me! You hurt us! Woe to your mistrust.
It would've been easier growing up if someone told me that you mastered non fiction. Listen, you'll never understand the cries that your contraction provides. But still I raise, only leaving sorrow in my eyes.
Francisco DH Nov 2012
Her hand travels to my own with confidence and that confidence is boosted
When her hand fits like a glove
She looks at me sweetly and bats those green eyes and I smile back
But its a false smile

How long can this Charade last?
How long before I crack?
I don't know the answer so I keep playing

My heart beats for her, but not only for her
It beats for another who I cannot have
it bleeds for her but not only for her
The blood that trickles is for another

Broken In two instead of remianing intact
How can this be? How can this be?
How Can I be Inbetween?
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
death steadies the hand,
given that life cares so little for it:
oh care i for you, to turn a smile
into a jagged frame for a jawline
that i might nibble on,
in a full caress,
    of a sunset...
and that it might  be, mine...
  that alone, would leave me elevated
above the mortal  mourning of said:
and encompassed "future":
for there be a breath
in death we all have to breathe...
and in epitaph entomb
ourselves as serving a purprose!
of a land beyond one's own:
mindful of the thistle -
prime colour purple...
   and the last remianing claim
to light...
           might be said of worth of
compensation due sacrifice?
thus the thistle, in purple bishop-bound
gown... the last house of scotland found...
are these the days of surrogate champions...
to market the hopes and lost hereos of
trojan acts!
                   no sooth, nor claim,
no name, nor flower,
     no shakespeare's worth
of citation, no boundary,
                              no given name,
let him abide by in death unto his eternal
rest: abdiding within the confines
of an unnamed grave...
                  settle no for, nor prior to,
nor invitating within said dates:
   to be either named duncan, macbeth,
or the willing wallace...
may the grave reside sacred: silent...
      and full of testimonial opaque of peace,
as is its historical due.

— The End —