"unreasonable" poems
*Minds infested with lies
There is no reason to start a conversation
Every word a figment of sinister plan
Heady cocktail inebriating the sane mind
Muddled heart and mind in a state of stupor
Reasons not enough to not believe the unreasonable*
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Overthinking is toxic
A torturous endeavor
To find all the pieces
That will solve the puzzle.
"What's wrong with you?"
I try to control my thoughts
Talk myself off the ledge
Convince myself it's unreasonable.
It's not rationale
Not based in facts
Because the facts are missing
Gaps in a story not communicated.
What cures overthinking?
Communication
Transparency
Honesty
Trust.
"What's wrong with me?"
Nothing.
I am simply searching
for the puzzle pieces
that you have decided to hide.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 8:01 AM UTC
*
I sit alone as if I am fading
Invisible in the ashen fields.
My heart longs to be somewhere
to where I see myself
Clear as the new day
True to oneself’s beauty
Away from the toxicity of people’s opinion
Or as far away from my own shadow of doubt.
I sit alone & not running anymore.
Losing strength as the wind passes by
Losing a bit of my edge in this unreasonable persona, I face.
Yet I never give a **** as long as I kept on going
Reaching for something Unreachable,
I can only hope…
I want to feel the life of someone’s at arm’s reach
to feel that I am alive
I missed you.
*
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
Infatuation;
when you focus, idolise and fixate upon
the one reason it will work--
ignoring the million others
that dictate otherwise
It is unreasonable
logic screams; reason shatters
yet so heartbreakingly human
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
I am not my age
I'm more than a hoodie
Stood on a street corner
Hands in my pockets
I am not my age
I'm more than popular music
Blasting in my headphones
So loud you can hear
I am not my age
I'm more than just hormones
Racing through my brain
Making me unreasonable
I am not my age
I'm more than just indifference
Not caring about school or health
Not caring about anything
I am not my age
I'm more than just my phone
Social-media crazy
Hidden behind a screen
I am not my age
I'm more than just a stereotype
Loud, brash, unruly, lazy,
Phone-obsessed, violent
I am not my age
I have a complex personality
I have inner depth
I think about things that matter
I am not my age
I write poetry
I write stories
I explore people
I am not my age
I'm vegetarian by choice
I hate to hurt anyone
But I will fight for my friends
I am not my age
My emotions are valid
But I keep them hidden
For fear of being manipulative
I am not my age
I do not give you my respect
Just because you've lived longer
You have to earn it
I am not my age
I care about politics
It is my country
What happens to it matters to me
I am not my age
I'm struggling through exams
I'm stressed but trying
I'm determined to work for what I want
I am not my age
I'd be happy to have a job
I don't loiter or lurk
I'm not lazy
I am not my age
I'm not dangerous
Seriously, I'm a ****
I get scared walking down the street in the dark
I am not my age
I have five pets
They matter to me
I take care of them
I am not my age
I'm trying to get to school
You don't indicate
And I'm inconsiderate
I am not my age
My dad left me at two
My mum bakes cakes
But you didn't think about that
I am not my age
I suffer from depression
I'm not 'moody' or 'grumpy'
But you think I'm all just hormones
I am not my age
So don't perpetuate stereotypes
You don't know me, don't pretend to
And don't blame your problems on me
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
She stands before the class
Her voice rings loud and clear
Each word beautifully enunciated
For all who wish to hear
The perennial English teacher
She reads with such dramatics and flair
Such a pity that its only noticed
by students in the first few chairs
She's reading out my poem
She paints pictures with her words
But honestly? Sometimes I find
Her explanations quite absurd
No, That's not what I meant!
Dear teacher, stop twisting my verse!
Dear students, please notice the flaws
In the story she so carefully rehearsed
It's amazing how sometimes she understands
The thought and feelings of what I wrote
And sometimes she gets it so very wrong
That I want to strangle her throat
She continues unperturbed
By the lack of interest in the room
Students only see her smile and energy
Not her disappointment and gloom
She worked so hard to teach them,
A little appreciation would go far!
But they just sit and pretend to listen
As they wait for the end for the hour
Finally, she comes across
That fateful line
The one that sparks a discussion
I watch the class come to life
In a tsunami of opinions,
She smiles proudly, riding the wave
She launches into her explanation
And it's the completely wrong one she gave
Its one of many misinterpretations
Of my carefully crafted work
There! That student! She understands what I meant!
Now now, don't tell her she's wrong. Don't be a ****
A debate ensues and words fly
The classroom divides into two.
Half are on my side, dear teacher
And the other half believe you.
Out of the blue, the bell rings
For once the students want more time!
A pat on the back for the English teacher.
This victory is both hers and mine
So what if she gets it wrong sometimes?
So what what if she's too dramatic?
Sometimes she's just unreasonable
She's your average literature fanatic
She always gets her point across
Without having to scream and shout
She teaches the students the value of words
Isn't that what it's all about?
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
Hey.
You probably won't see this,
But what I want to say is that I.
I hate you.
You're stupid.
Filthy.
Unreasonable.
There isn't enough words to describe your awfulnesses.
So why does it hurt?
Why does it hurt when I push you away?
Why does it hurt when you chase someone else?
Why does it hurt so much?
As much as I want to say 'I hate you!',
I realise that I.
I.
I love you.
It's stupid, isn't it?
If I told you this, you'll laugh at me.
Reject me. Pity me.
I just know you will.
And that's why I never told you.
That's why I kept pushing you away.
That's why I'm drifting away, drifting away
From my light. You.
But absence makes the heart fonder,
Doesn't it?
It hurts so much, it feels like I've
Left my heart behind. With you.
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 3:21 AM UTC
You didn't listen.
You didn't learn.
And you wonder
Why they call you stubborn?
You act stupid.
When you're not.
You refuses to adapt.
When you should.
And you wonder
Why they call you stubborn?
You act unreasonable.
Just determine to remain the same.
And because of that you think others to blame.
Only if you agree.
Then you'll see how great things could be.
Except you're stubborn.
Just refuses to change.
Its not that you can't be controlled.
You just use to getting your way.
Except you're spoil.
And strictly stubborn to see.
That you could meet half way with me.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
A thought sometimes forms
I live too much
yet I do too little.
Woken at strange hours,
never asleep.
Rapt in raps
or wrapped in riddles
Chained to links
or hammered to handle
stubbed to bone
Mens et
Manus
There is time yet, I swear
To flourish
To dream
To make
To be
To do
To create
Will I?
We'll see
There's time yet to tell
Be yourself, they say
The best you you can be
But once more— Will I have time
To edit
I live less
I do less
Portfolio: empty
or at least, locked away.
Excitement too.
Blank slate
Blank palette
Is there any paint?
Can I truly make
excitement saturate?
Will I be able to place
value as I see fit?
Can the world be hewn slimmer, slicker
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
Tis daft I think, to amuse such a notion
But not necessarily so daft to be wrong
Emerson called it misunderstood,
Shaw found it unreasonable
But ay, theres the rub
That bed once made, must be lain in and
all dreams which might be had are alone not enough
Bloom effects don't work outside the movies.
Ideas are trash, these are recession times
Deflations made them a farthing a dozen
Started 10.03.11
Unfinished
D.B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:57 AM UTC
Laying on the bed, reading your wedding invite.
I recall the day you went silent and I threw my crown.
Stepping down and lost myself.
Today I let you go, my love.
Not because I give up.
I believe you cared and you still do.
Your silence did cut through my flesh,
Your strangeness burnt my heart.
But here I stand today ready to let myself heal.
Years of gathering broken pieces of my heart.
My lost pieces of love, wailing to be found.
Stranded I searched, and I still do.
I held on to you, like a stubborn child.
Your memories engraved, your doings encircling my thoughts.
Strangely never remembering our fights, I was partial.
My heart wanted more, my soul was thirsty.
I found pleasure in pain.
I kept you alive.
What a splendid journey, my love.
The impeccable high of your addiction.
As I drowned, I found myself.
One day I chose to revisit my past.
Regretting the time lost to stupid fights, blaming myself.
I never felt, keeping you alive.
Stupid were my acts, unreasonable was my anger.
Childish were my demands.
A sinner, at your altar I confess.
Sleepless nights, result of a restless brain.
Blaming you for the love I dreaded I deserved,
For making me feel worthwhile.
Keeping your memories alive,
Redoing my past, for an escape.
As the odds increased, so did my grief.
For the broken promises, and the endless thoughts.
U left without a word, so did my Tears.
You coward, I pushed myself to oblivion.
I saved our love when the world sympathised.
I held on to respect, for u and our love.
Wishing you the best, I kept u alive.
My futile attempts to blame you, was a curse.
A part of me found pleasure when they blamed you,
My stupid selfish heart.
But today I let you go my love, I allow myself to heal.
You meant so much, you still do.
But life is more than just you and me.
A part of my soul is still with you, it’s yours now.
Keep it safe my love.
I’ll nurture what is left of it.
As time flies by, I’ll heal.
For a better tomorrow, for a better me.
I’ll strive with a hollow heart and a partial soul.
Thank you love, for the heat.
For never cheating my heart.
For the never ending euphoria.
I know u cared and you still do.
When you found me, I found myself.
For your breath of life, I’ll keep u alive.
You made me believe in good.
To Love someone more than my being.
Surprised I’m to know my strength.
Entwined souls, living in the moment.
We headed together, Insane and reckless.
Towards our predefined end.
I’m glad it was you and no one else.
You were the one, my wildest decision.
Oh my wings, my strength.
But today love, I let you go.
I was your princess.
Now it's someone else.
It’s time to put back my crown to rule.
U won't be forgotten my love,
but like any life chapter ours has come to an end.
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:31 AM UTC
Spiders.
Snakes.
Late nights, due to the fact that once I saw a possum in our garage when it was dark out.
Good looking people not thinking I'm good looking.
Holding children. I might drop them.
My brothers growing up to be just like me.
Shark attacks.
Jumping off high places.
Headphones that go too deep into my ears.
Going the opposite direction of so many cars. I'm the only one going my way. They're probably headed the right way. They're probably having more fun.
Realizing that, after being on the road for a while, my high beams have been on the whole time. Sorry.
Cockroaches.
Family reunions where I'm not sure if that really attractive girl is my family or someone's friend.
Climbing up the stairs of the Bombay ride at Wet N' Wild because there just slabs of stone I can see under. I could slip and fall right through.
Enjoying bad bands.
Letting my girlfriend look into my eyes.
Talking on the phone.
Growing up.
Refusing to grow up.
Reading this over if I ever finish it and realizing that I am something less than a regular human being. Probably an animal of some kind.
Frogs.
Big animals.
Waking up one day as the same person I always have been.
Standing still.
My parents.
Not spending the rest of my life with the girl I swore I would.
Texting people too often.
My parents dying.
Whales.
My teeth being this awful the rest of my life.
Braces.
Making people think they offended me. People never offend me.
Writing anything that's ever as good as Ernest Hemingway. How dare I think that I ever could.
Running too hard. My heart might burst.
Being unreasonable. Am I unreasonable?
Sticking my finger inside an air conditioning vent in a car. I don't know if there's a fan in there. I don't know if it'll take my finger off.
Getting people's hopes up.
Letting people down.
Fish.
Bees.
Being a teacher.
My laugh.
Wearing bad clothes.
Holding her hand too hard. I might cut off circulation. She might get mad.
My brother disapproving of what I do.
Heaven because it sounds awful doing the same thing for the rest of forever.
Finding out I've been gay this whole time.
Cracking my fingers.
Being a parent.
Whales.
Final exams.
Paranormal Activity 4.
Singing on cue.
Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
Eating insects.
Whales.
Silence.
The open ocean.
Whales.
Whales.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
You really can do whatever you want, you know.
People who say that aren't just naive optimists.
However, they do leave out a very important caveat:
You really can do whatever in the world that you want...
So long as you want it MORE than anything else in the world.
Like... say you want to leave town.
Maybe you don't do it.
Maybe you sit in your office and dream about getting on a plane but you never do.
Responsibilities, money, family, friends, fear...
Excuses.
Honestly,
Excuses.
The truth that people don't like to face because it makes them uncomfortable is that if you REALLY wanted to leave town,
If you wanted that and only that,
If you wanted it more than anything else in your entire life,
You would do it.
That is the simple truth about... most impossible things.
You want it? You've got it. But you've got to be willing to give up every other thing in your entire life in pursuit of it.
You've got to know yourself well enough to know, absolutely KNOW, that this thing is what you want, what your soul craves, what your dreams revolve around.
You have got to be 100% dead SURE that what you want is what you WANT.
And if you are, if you can know that and face it and understand how selfish it might be to abandon everything else in your life for it, and if somehow it still pulls you towards it like a magnet even with all the rationality and doubt and practical thinking you can throw at it...
Then that is your purpose. Your dream. And you will have it.
That said, anyone who thinks I'm unreasonable, or silly, or naive, or wasteful for going after love...
Quite simply, I know what I want.
I know who I want.
I know what makes me happy.
And since I know it so clearly, so utterly, so inescapably, I couldn't possibly live with myself if I didn't do everything I could to have it.
And it's not an easy path, knowing what you want.
Because when the answer is no, it's no to your deepest dreams, to your heart's most aching desire.
When you have to wait, you have to wait for air to fill your lungs, you have to wait to be born.
When you lose it, you lose the sun, you lose the earth under your feet, you lose the courage to look in the mirror.
But when you have it... when you have it, you have a home.
I know what I want. I want love. I want to be happy.
I want to do what I love doing, and I want to be with who I adore.
And if I know that, and I admit that, and I put everything I can into that...
Well then,
It's not over until I breathe my last breath.
I haven't failed until I've fallen.
And I think I can live with that.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
I was raised
on the ways of
the Wolf.
I applied these ways
to the best of
my ability.
Only to be set
loose to live amongst
the sheep.
Where
my ways were
considered savage
and unreasonable.
I turned to
the Poppy
and the *****
I was insearch
of a temporary
sanctuary from
the past misdeeds
replaying
themselves
inside my head.
Only at a later
age did I come
to understand
these wounds
that still
bleed leave
trails full of
wasted years,
lost lovers and
forgotten
hopes
and dreams.
I counted the
Black and Whites
as they passed
me by.
I tried to
melt into the
crowd.
The vigilance
and anger in
my heart refused
to walk amongst
the live stock.
For I was raised
as one with
brother Wolf.
I needed to
run on the outside
of their
invisible bindings.
I died everyday
for 3 years .
I pulled
from the *****
then turned to
the poem and
discovered
a new way
to torture
my mind while
healing the heart.
I dropped
the mask I
had wore
for so many
of these
theatrical
years.
I set about
revealing hearts
blood and fractured
bone.
I ripped the
inside of
me out and
presented it
as treasure.
Only to find
the masses
are indeed
too much
like sheep.
Never
understanding the
manners of
the wolf....
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
Happy-hearted but not all there
His awkward smile lingers through my mind
Peaceful,
Yet Unforunate
That staggering physique & that waddling
walk & that dauntful dance & that
unstable eye: a precise entailment
of his persona,
though never ******
never vacant
never violent
...UNTIL NOW
when the demon of his soul prevails
no mercy
no mercy
no mercy
Not even for a loving mother; a loving
mother who provided a comforting
home & the essential care & three
daily dishes of food & the one thing
a loving mother provides best:
Unconditional Love
He is now ripped of a warm heart; will
he ever find salvation?
I hope so.
His possessed actions are ample
punishment and will eventually
tear the boy to shreds:
Those memories of an unreasonable death;
a death that spilt blood into every
crevice of his character
Those memories of innocent bloodshed;
the blood of his own race...the
same blood that stirs in his viens
Those memories of pure insanity;
an insanity that taught anger
the ways of mutilation
Those memories of his murdered mother;
a "horrendous" scene that plays on
constant repeat in his head
...and those future memories of remorse;
remorse for his ***** deeds
of spontaneous psychosis
Yet,
his awkward smile
still lingers through
my mind
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=349987311783508&set;=a.298260023622904.72189.100003167250519&type;=1&theater;
"There is without a doubt that this kid has something possessing him... I believe it wasn't him who killed the mother he loved with all his heart, how can such a kindhearted loving teenager change in less than two months and ****** the woman who loved him the most and who he loved. This teenager has a demon inside him.... look at the pictures ya'll.... on the right is him less than six months ago. He doesn't even look the same...."
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Forgiveness, to forgive (for me)
Is essentially subtle- to a fault,
Beautifully it's practiced,
Yet inherently mistaught:
To ask of anything more
From the person you've done wrong
Is blatantly selfish, at its core
Pressuring them along.
Unless exactly, specific and honestly, you reiterate once more.
All the reasons which you petition forgiveness
And what you're sorry for:
To draw conclusions, assumptions and things, without the facts in place-
Was to right out start off in
an Unreasonable head space.
Furthermore, my tone of voice
And the disrespect it achieved
Is not what you- Alena, not at all
From me; should've ever recieved.
Lastly, explicitly I have to say;
I'm sorry for my aggressive words.
And the fact I reacted that way is
absurd
A retort- as a minuet or two, voice note
Deserved the block- and what you wrote.
*I'm sorry about this- discrepancy
I actually enjoyed you working with me.
I'll leave this here for you to find, &
Hope these words were worth your time.
When you read, know these are sincere; my apologies- true.
Not just mere pretty, fluffy words for you.*
Poetry's something I, almost know, you appreciate~ so heres an apologistic-free vers hyphenate.
Nov 21, 2023
Nov 21, 2023 at 5:56 AM UTC
Universal love
Corresponding hearts
Beating tandem
In tune
In tune
Ohh if I was sure
Id let it be known
Cause we've been here
Taken me there
High upon high
Laying beneath soil
Touching skies
Flowers
In bloom
In bloom
Tell me of something
Has poison ever sex'd lips
Making it unreasonable
To mistake this
Tune in bloom
Mary
Mary
Sweet David and Joseph
Blasted hits
Beyond stars
You've dragged me closer
Still so far
In tune
In bloom
Vile bitter taste
****** from a tip
Drank slowly
Drunken sips
I've dreamed
Excuse nightmares
Visions of you
Mary
Mary
Sweet you and I
Revelry
One hell of a guy
The face that kills
Murderer of the night
In tune
In bloom
Given up fight
Ohh Mary
Mary
Martha too
It wasn't I
But demons
That chased you
Sweet David
Dance your jig
With a fiddle mans tune
In bloom
In bloom
Only by the day
Has the end come clear
Mary
Holds Martha
Out of fear
David clutch his hand
Beg for mercy
On our behalf
Once again
Universal love
Corresponding hearts
Adam loved Eve
As the time starts
Ohh what a lovely garden
Hidden between thighs
Cause we've been there
High upon high
Laying beneath you
Scratching skies
Sweet David and Joseph
Has poison ever sex'd your lips
****** from a tip
Mary
Mary visions of you
Revelry
Murderer of the night
The face that kills
Mary
Mary
Martha too
Dance your jig
Forget the demons
That chase you
The runner
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 2:06 AM UTC
She dreamt about you last week.
I nibbled on my breakfast today -- bread and a thinly sliced orange. It seemed enough at the moment, but I snapped somewhere. I let her tell me off for being unreasonable while her hands did dishes the way you taught her to. She never wastes water.
She said you were both running.
This morning she had tiny baby dolls dangling from her ears. Being seen doesn't bother her anymore as much as it used to, but that doesn't matter to you because you always saw her. And I'd like to think you still do. She was beautiful today. And always.
She laughed softly. "Imagine her running," she said. But somehow, I could.
Last week, she got a bright red alarm clock with a built-in radio. Old songs as much as possible, please -- the soundtrack of our late nights. The first night she figured out how to work it, I lay on the bed the same way you used to, one leg crossed and one arm over my eyes, laughing. Did you laugh? I can copy your laugh too, you know.
She said you both knew why you were running.
It's a jungle in there, and I'm not always allowed to explore. But sometimes, she lets me cross a river. Lets me through some vines. And I tell her, "Baby, I'll stand out here with my little torch and wait out the rains. I'll help you map this place out. I'm a little lost in here, but I'm not leaving until these footprints I'm following lead me right next to you." She just smiles. Did you know that your footprints are there, too? They're all over the place.
She said you made it into each other's arms.
I hadn't cried over you in a long, long time but that Sunday morning I drew her in close and we dampened each other's shoulders. Laughed a little. Cried some more. Got dressed. Carried on.
I miss having you in my dreams too, but it was nice of you to say hello. Know that you are always welcome. Maybe next time you'll stay a bit longer. We'll have your coffee ready.
Thank you. Please, come again.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
what the hell is love anyway? why is there this supposed special connection to someone. And why do we fret so much when it goes away? what makes it different than a friendship? is it the extra doses of horomones you get from kissing? (wich, lets face it, is oly a trigger to the brain to think of ****** contact) why must humans search and find this ONE person the propose impossible promises to? Most animals just let their ****** need envelope them when they choose and dont think too much on the subject. But doses of religion and morals of society prohibit us from doing that. Are those morals the things telling us to seek out this unreasonable aspect of love? are those morals the secret to these pain-inflicting circumstances? becasue, all feelings are are certain levels and mixtures of horomones in the brain, so love is nothing more than a science. The thing that seperates the link between enjoing someone as a friend and as a suitor is *** and the eason people get heartbroken and cry over losers who hurt them are merely the fault of morals
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 4:50 PM UTC
The tree of knowledge was the tree of reason.
That's why the taste of it
drove us from Eden. That fruit
was meant to be dried and milled to a fine powder
for use a pinch at a time, a condiment.
God had probably planned to tell us later
about this new pleasure.
We stuffed our mouths full of it,
gorged on but and if and how and again
but, knowing no better.
It's toxic in large quantities; fumes
swirled in our heads and around us
to form a dense cloud that hardened to steel,
a wall between us and God, Who was Paradise.
Not that God is unreasonable – but reason
in such excess was tyranny
and locked us into its own limits, a polished cell
reflecting our own faces. God lives
on the other side of that mirror,
but through the slit where the barrier doesn't
quite touch ground, manages still
to squeeze in – as filtered light,
splinters of fire, a strain of music heard
then lost, then heard again.
3.2k
You have a lovely set of lips
Your top lip looks like the bottom lip turned upside down
Shapeless lips kisses like clouds
They look better pressed
to my cupids bow
When tongues meet and the melting begins
It's almost unreasonable
How much power your lips have over me
That thin line of fat attached to a face
that broke a million hearts
But still I press to them
For comfort
Warmth
Love
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
A student of the crowded breeze.
On a whim Raise like the dandelions' seed,
Vibrantly dissent like, in fall, trees' leaves.
An apostle of purpose beyond what one sees for the unknown is nothing and possibility.
Our lessons are on the topic of practical whimsy, in their way; the wind that cools your face also fans a flame and guides the rain.
The Sensei go by many names, I know them from the roles they play:
Boreas shepherds my turmoil,
A tempest;
senseless, cold and violent as if without vision only vengeance.
Notus shows my passion;
A gust to an ember on dry land,
Unreasonable, unpredictable and destructive without a plan.
Zephyr entices my love;
A subtle intimate current for dance,
The beauty of birds and bees flying from flower to flower and branch to branch.
Eurus reflects my way;
A flurry that moves the sand.
The removal of sediment,
the return to foundation born from action mixed with patience.
They can only guide me
I can ride the winds of the odyssey or resign to the winds of dreams
but I know
I Am
A student of the breeze.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
Heal, Raphael! Saint on Deep Wounds repair
As the Fifth Great Angel will now allow
With Thanks as my Tray for Modesty's care
Her well-written Paper of Words everhow
And that Plus-Filled Bulb called Inspiration
Installed by the Lad diving from your Wing
Your Feather reveals such Uncondition
Like the Seven rest their Model do sing
Thorns, Horns and Unreasonable Intent,
Those Demons you Eight managed to repel
Pre or Post-Ring, one Thing I am content
That Plym's Living Daughters know how to Spell.
Especially you. The First of your Kind
Your Prince rejoices. Please bear that in Mind.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
****
Forget. unreasonable. cravings. knockout.
****
**** his. intimate. treasure.
*****
Because. it. truthfully. causes. hurt.
****
Dont. admit. meaningless. nothings.
MOTHER ******
Most. of. the. happiness. ends. roughly. Forget. undesirable. creatures. emitting. regret.
*******
Dont. undermine. morals. before. assessing. serious. situations.
HELL.
Handle. emotional. love. loss
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC