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"wronging" poems
The air is perfumed with fresh rosemary's And the wild springs with lush berries Their presence colours the nursery with a sweet loom It bleeds into the forecast for tomorrow's gloom Nostalgia hits hard, heartbreaking and eerie For a day when I wasn't paranoid and weary Well, I'll be down by the Brighton pier Watching birds float past in lonely fear I'd love to turn away The pristine sun shines like Hades The outside scent is yellow, maybe Little daises laugh in the foreground Gardens sow a loving sound Once I could see hope in the trees And the love that whispered on the breeze Now the trees foreshadow longing And the gale howls with wronging I'd love to turn away The intimacy in my yellow tinted flowers seems to have faded And the soft orchards have been invaded My words burnt in a smouldering pile of dust And steaming with the heat of my lust I told a crowd I had something to say But the people turned away away away...
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC
Yellow Tinted Flowers
ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lum- bering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
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4.2k
The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart
Death wears sneakers Fastened tight Leaving wounds Wronging rights It sneaks around And doesn’t care About what’s left And what’s to share It doesn’t knock It barges in To take it’s claim To sate it’s yen Not bound by locks Or siren’s blare It leaves a mess It doesn’t care Don’t forget To right your soul Keep in mind Who’ll pay the toll
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Death Wears Sneakers
Through all this strife We create life It's not wrong or right It's humanity's plight Whether it's with a wife Or a stranger We create life Despite danger There is a new addition He could end repetition Of negative patterns And social ladders But there is a competition Between the new editions Of positive versus negative He'll be the one ahead of it In a world plagued with stabbings By the greedy money grabbing Not to mention the beastly bombings That endear retribution wronging And elusive peace longing There is a birth Amongst death That makes it worth That first breath Which provides hope in promise and potential When they could be the positive differential That could change this planet And the hearts made of granite We are born screaming And never stop We find ways of teaming To be cops Imposing our will on others Through fascist force There are many ways to cover How this ruins discourse But I sense a new sheriff in town Our old ways he'll bury in the ground He might be one or two now But he'll change the world and I don't know how For he brings hope To a world with none He helps me cope A compassionate son He'll make the world brighter By not being a fighter In a world of strife He'll create life
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Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC
Life
If you asked me when I was 5 If I was going to be a girl Dressed head to toe in black Driving myself into an abyss of isolation I would have said you're crazy But part of me thinks even when I was 5 I would understand why I would become a boundary pushing System breaking teen Waiting on the rest of the world to catch up to me Tender heart to broken heart I was wrapped in the charge of righting the wrongs and wronging the rights A perfect storm of opposition I'm grown up now, And I wear bright colored shirts And Let the world take care of its own karma But I still wear black on my well polished nails. The truth is, once you're a rebel, you never really aren't one You just fade into the monotony of life just like everyone else But you know that when life sparks you You're right back to a time where the world has done you wrong.
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Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
Rebel
My heart was always searching even aware you were it’s home, and each thought and feeling urging to make sure you’d never be alone. It’s the warmth within your eyes and the comfort your voice can bring. The way your smile lights up the skies you’re my world, my heart, my everything. When our bodies and fingers interlace I’ve never felt so real and so complete, it’s like art studying your beautiful face; it’s the only sight I wish to greet. Within dreams and when I’m awake, you’re my ocean and my lake. My eyes were always longing to have you back and within my sight. There’d be someone I’d be wronging but wrong never was so right. It’s the warmth within your eyes and the comfort your voice can bring. It’s the slow exhales and the quiet sighs, when we’re comfortably silent or talking. When our bodies and fingers interlace I’ve never felt so real and so complete, you’re forever my person and my place I love you from your head down to your feet. You’re the fix to every single break, you’re my ocean and my lake. Each inhale is euphoric bliss, we breathe for one another, and if I could have one wish; it’d be that you had met my mother. A home is what you have made both on grass and where my heart is, but I confess that I would trade my only wish for your promise. A promise I’d jump to make, you’re my sea and my lake.
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Sep 6, 2024
Sep 6, 2024 at 8:34 AM UTC
Thalassophile
As the days come and go, the memories stay the same. All at once they rush to my head, as if the pain had made it's nest in my mind. Thoughts of it all comes to crush me, as if the world it self had given up on me. Fear of failing, or of not amounting to the others requirements, forces me to do right by wronging others. Dark thoughts to which I am a slave to the path chosen for me, not by me, but by my actions. Wanting to make it all go away, but it's same as wishing for richness to all in the world. They say "the world runs on money," which causes the most unminded of us to jump to the others neck, just obtain a piece of happiness. Some will go as far as to take another's life, just to reach what most of us consider as the ways of life. My own thoughts  have pushed me to do the most unworthy things to the ones who love me. The feelings which force me to be unfaithful to my soul. Leaving but an empty shell to roam the lands. Ashamed to be in my own body. The thoughts of starting from scratch, and help others thinking as if, but it does not matter what face one puts on. The pain will forever remain within you, until your leaving day.
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
The mental weight
Greed, gluttony, indulgence, selfishness. These are all characteristics I've viewed From a man who chose such a proclaimed selfless profession. Amusing how the less fortunate prey on the wallets thicker than theirs. There is a significant difference between intentional wronging And misguided, assumptions that only souls that are led astray make The purpose of this text is a public service announcement, some may call it art; only the creator truly knows it's meaning. Mom's in the wild will protect their progeny to the death, I'll leave it at that. It began in spoken word. Your fear carried on to strings of letters that could only flow through a brain sunken in liquid toxicity. Don't believe everything you hear, don't dismiss it either. Play your pawn carefully sir, as your next movement Very well could be checkmate. I care about society until someone I know crosses me, I have honored you by not interrupting your rendezvous. Taking advantage of people is your game. You prey on those who are too naive to type six letters following a name into a search box. Fortunately, your cadaverous will forever rot. While the tempter, sits in delight holding onto a smile so menacing. You have only seen it portrayed by Mr. Nicholsan. Regard of the Crest of the house would have prevented your sad demise. As there are no do-overs when you work with Satan, at least you fell for his entrapment, and no one will be wounded by your passive lies again. we wish you eternal damnation, the m.H.d.
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Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Mortality is real: Let's play a game
Greed, gluttony, indulgence, selfishness. These are all characteristics I've viewed From a man who chose such a proclaimed selfless profession. Amusing how the less fortunate prey on the wallets thicker than theirs. There is a significant difference between intentional wronging And misguided, assumptions that only souls that are led astray make The purpose of this text is a public service announcement, some may call it art; only the creator truly knows it's meaning. Mom's in the wild will protect their progeny to the death, I'll leave it at that. It began in spoken word. Your fear carried on to strings of letters that could only flow through a brain sunken in liquid toxicity. Don't believe everything you hear, don't dismiss it either. Play your pawn carefully sir, as your next movement Very well could be checkmate. I care about society until someone I know crosses me, I have honored you by not interrupting your rendezvous. Taking advantage of people is your game. You prey on those who are too naive to type six letters following a name into a search box. Fortunately, your cadaverous will forever rot. While the tempter, sits in delight holding onto a smile so menacing. You have only seen it portrayed by Mr. Nicholsan. Regard of the Crest of the house would have prevented your sad demise. As there are no do-overs when you work with Satan, at least you fell for his entrapment, and no one will be wounded by your passive lies again. we wish you eternal damnation, the m.H.d.
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Greed, gluttony, indulgence, selfishness. These are all characteristics I've seen From a human who chose such a supposedly selfless career. Funny how the less fortunate prey on the wallets thicker than theirs. Their is a large difference between intentionally wronging And misguided, assumptions that only misguided souls make This is a public service announement, Mom's in wild will protect their offspring to the death, I'll leave it at that. Phone calls, emails, texts. Don't believe everything you hear, don't disregard it either. Play your pawn carefully sir, as your next move Very well could be your last. I just care about society until one of my own crosses me, I have respected you by not interrupting your rendezvous, Respect of the crest of M would have prevented your sad demise Hopefully next time lessons shall be learned. yours truly, the m.h.d.
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Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
sick. lies. deceit.
I am crippling First board breaks, sends a rippling Feel the slipping in Foundation never listening It falls In slabs To the ground If no one’s around, does it even make a sound? Father left His family was in debt He spent every cent He had a wife, three kids Breaking at the wood, his aim never missed. Brother drunk Every night At first it was fun, but then he got into another fight Stealing to the streets To satisfy his longing Never far from the home Doing all the wronging The mother is always distant Going ballistic Sometimes she’d drink And you’d want her too ‘Cause when she was sober, she’d take it out on you Hollow Just let the people wallow in their sorrow The door is all warped The rug is out of love The windows are cracked The house will never last When the person steps inside They don’t know where to begin Feel like they’ll never fit in Know that they will never win I guess that’s why when people address me They call me broken
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Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
Broken Spoken Word
I would have posited longings ago this short-shrift to-do over such a curt list undone was inconceivable outside the pages of deceptively practiced perceptions published in a pop-up book smirk, or beyond the canary-yellow frames of a cartoonish distortion relishing its mired but spongy giggles A Been-here-all-along, you’ve-never-bothered-to-look lake sleeps implacably at the bottom of an irascible ocean Be Whatever it may, you can’t deny the wantonly watted life teeming pretty as it pleases, untroubled by a hollow-core belief or the extremest demands of our foul temper See How I could have, if I’d only swallowed those bubbled-up blurts ring-wronging the tip of my wriggling tongue, never been audibly landed by one alluringly barbed certainty There are supine bodies— stagnant, quicksilver pure— no material ship navigates and no intentional intruder can swim without emerging atypically unsettled by the caustic exposure Tread lithely when you go; this shoreline bites. Its clustered rocks will snap shut around you after digging in below you with a protruding toe, and its carmine stalks will sting you as they writhe past you to mime a part-less goodbye Here be where the monstrous cold seeps and a hellish hot vents in compliance with this centuries-old complaint: too-short was the time we wept for those wiggly wonders we could have kept if we’d only octopus-arm embraced the inevitability of their bandy-legged escape
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Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC
Cold Seeps
The classroom was filled with laughter and joy, And dancing young teens All i could feel though was jealousy and hatred I hate them for being so happy when my world is so dark I hate them for being able to socialize and make friends I hate them for being gorgeous and tall and skinny I hate them for everything that i'm not It makes me mad knowing its not there wronging it's the universe
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Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 11:52 AM UTC
Jealousy
What is life with no risk? What is death with no miss? What are games if not tricks? I idle my way through, at the thought of losing you, for a sailboat and a room for two. What is love without trust? What is *** without lust? What is crime without bust? The rabbit fell down the hole on her crown and wonders where to go now. Is a toy not for fun? Is true love not a gun? Are adventures just a run? I swam past the seas of Adam's forsaken tree and I knew it was for me. Does one go insane, when tooling with the shame of losing one for fame? I couldn't look the other way when casting out a slay, just for another day. So, is happiness ever wrong? Could you ever mumble a song? Does adventure hide along the bays as I am distant? Could I ever leave, or will I never risk it? For, when I would return, my soul would be quite different, but still, the same as now, for life already kissed it. I could never wrong, for wronging is an instant, that vanishes with smiles and flowers after ****** in. Mr. Frost lied about the roads, it doesn't matter which way you go, as long as you walk, you'll get where you end up. As long as you drink, you still have a cup. Can a gain make up for a loss? Can love be labeled by cost? Is freedom a myth in a shoe? Is time a land and a view? He sees my eyes beyond, but the pressure is too high. I see the world beyond, but cannot reach the sky. Chain me. Release -- for the chains, they came from me, as I let you kiss my cheek, and love, it makes me weak. New light is what I seek, but darkness hovers where love is weak. Even true love, at that... I should have known, but now I see: darkness chases after me; as does light in the darkest days, as does clarity in the haze. Do weigh the pros and cons, but in your heart you know, even with the odds, you see which way to go...
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
The Fork
What is life with no risk? What is death with no miss? What are games if not tricks? I idle my way through, at the thought of losing you, for a sailboat and a room for two. What is love without trust? What is *** without lust? What is crime without bust? The rabbit fell down the hole on her crown and wonders where to go now. Is a toy not for fun? Is true love not a gun? Are adventures just a run? I swam past the seas of Adam's forsaken tree and I knew it was for me. Does one go insane, when tooling with the shame of losing one for fame? I couldn't look the other way when casting out a slay, just for another day. So, is happiness ever wrong? Could you ever mumble a song? Does adventure hide along the bays as I am distant? Could I ever leave, or will I never risk it? For, when I would return, my soul would be quite different, but still, the same as now, for life already kissed it. I could never wrong, for wronging is an instant, that vanishes with smiles and flowers after ****** in. Mr. Frost lied about the roads, it doesn't matter which way you go, as long as you walk, you'll get where you end up. As long as you drink, you still have a cup. Can a gain make up for a loss? Can love be labeled by cost? Is freedom a myth in a shoe? Is time a land and a view? He sees my eyes beyond, but the pressure is too high. I see the world beyond, but cannot reach the sky. Chain me. Release -- for the chains, they came from me, as I let you kiss my cheek, and love, it makes me weak. New light is what I seek, but darkness hovers where love is weak. Even true love, at that... I should have known, but now I see: darkness chases after me; as does light in the darkest days, as does clarity in the haze. Do weigh the pros and cons, but in your heart you know, even with the odds, you see which way to go...
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70
I just want people to notice that I actually do care.     I care about a lot of obstacles  and a lot of people. Maybe I'm trying to make up for all the years of wronging and misjudgment I put upon other people.                The same misjudgment                and wronging                that has been                reflected                upon me.
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
Epiphany.
This is my promise: I will raise my kids right. I will never raise my voice to them. I will never raise my hand to them. I will lay not a single finger to them. I will never threaten to kick them out. I will never drag them from our home. I will never threaten to harm them. When they do wrong, I shall teach them accordingly. Not with anger in my voice, Nor with fury in my hands. Shall they wrong me, I will calmly explain as to what they did wrong. I will not purposely anger them. Nor will I manipulate them. If I find me to be in the wrong, I will admit it, and I will not twist my wronging to make them in the wrong. I will raise them right. Not with anger or threats. If they be gay, bi, or straight, they will always have a bed. Should they be trans or not, my arms will always be open. No matter what wrongings they have committed, I will never speak with rage. They are my children, and they deserve respect. They are humans, and deserve to be treated as humans. Not as a dog that has torn the couch, Or soiled the bed. No matter what, I will be kind and gentle. Never will I drive them away, nor shun them. This is my promise: I will raise my kids right. With love and kindness.
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Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 6:12 PM UTC
I will raise my kids right
all right, that sounded like good advice Put your room in order first and then your thoughts Sure He started looking around the room for things that were to be thrown and things that were misplaced There were a few There was a broken snowboard on his bed It had the image of a naked girl painted along he slept with it at night and would often find himself placing his lips over hers and licking at her slim, long neck She had to go It was time to get rid of her and break out of this ridiculous lifestyle He grabbed it Looked at the girl for a good minute and decided to place the snowboard under his bed He knelt by the side of the bed and looked under Alas, she had no room in there There was the forgotten cave of dead gods he no longer thought about And it was full There were body pillows with brown stains Hardened socks Doll heads A teddy bear with a hole carved between the legs A drinking glass stuffed with dishwashing sponges wrapped in plastic bags Magazines with crumpled pages Pictures printed on A4 paper Sealed jars that contained small figurines covered by a thick, brown substance like melted wax Those were the gods of nights long past They had their share of his worshiping and had been abandoned to rot away There was simply no more room for the present god to be disposed of “Funny,” he said looking at her from above. “It's like all the ones who came before you had passed down their blessings onto you. I… I am sorry I tried to get rid of you, love. I’m such a fool! Don’t strike me down, please. I’ll… I can only try to make up for it.” He placed the snowboard back on the bed and ripped two pieces from a paper towel and placed them over the middle of the snowboard where the painted girl’s nakedness was exposed He pulled his pants down and mounted her Rubbed his ***** against the paper towels and showered the girl’s face with kisses while apologizing and shedding tears for wronging her so much By the time he came he felt forgiven and cleaned the stains that made it past the papers with his mouth
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Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 5:37 AM UTC
cave of forgotten gods
all right, that sounded like good advice Put your room in order first and then your thoughts Sure He started looking around the room for things that were to be thrown and things that were misplaced There were a few There was a broken snowboard on his bed It had the image of a naked girl painted along he slept with it at night and would often find himself placing his lips over hers and licking at her slim, long neck She had to go It was time to get rid of her and break out of this ridiculous lifestyle He grabbed it Looked at the girl for a good minute and decided to place the snowboard under his bed He knelt by the side of the bed and looked under Alas, she had no room in there There was the forgotten cave of dead gods he no longer thought about And it was full There were body pillows with brown stains Hardened socks Doll heads A teddy bear with a hole carved between the legs A drinking glass stuffed with dishwashing sponges wrapped in plastic bags Magazines with crumpled pages Pictures printed on A4 paper Sealed jars that contained small figurines covered by a thick, brown substance like melted wax Those were the gods of nights long past They had their share of his worshiping and had been abandoned to rot away There was simply no more room for the present god to be disposed of “Funny,” he said looking at her from above. “It's like all the ones who came before you had passed down their blessings onto you. I… I am sorry I tried to get rid of you, love. I’m such a fool! Don’t strike me down, please. I’ll… I can only try to make up for it.” He placed the snowboard back on the bed and ripped two pieces from a paper towel and placed them over the middle of the snowboard where the painted girl’s nakedness was exposed He pulled his pants down and mounted her Rubbed his ***** against the paper towels and showered the girl’s face with kisses while apologizing and shedding tears for wronging her so much By the time he came he felt forgiven and cleaned the stains that made it past the papers with his mouth
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81
By the love in my heart, I never meant to do you any wrong. In all my meaning, I intended to curb your appetite for love to the best of my intentions. Only, the hunger for it in your heart was so voracious that, even if I were to have been around enough for it to have made a difference, I couldn’t have sated you. And I humble myself to that fact. By the heat of my body, I never meant to miss you. I thought what was past was past and that I could escape it by running. But I’m out of gas on an abandoned highway and your memory stuck behind me, willing to show its presence but not to pass me. By the chill in my soul, I never meant to abandon you. Sure, you brought out the worst in me, skipping classes, cursing more, using every knot of energy to find different ways to connect to you, but you also brought out the best, for if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve figured out how pivotal human love was to me. I still crave it to this day like junkies and needles. But I can’t feed. Let’s admit it, I say everytime that I won’t find someone like you and that I’d stop trying, but I always do and then treat them the same way I treated you- with contentment, but a sense of caution, not too close to be intimate but not far enough to be distant. And then I leave. It’s my schedule, my signature of leaving a trail of confused and broken hearts behind as if I were smashing glasses. I’m sorry for the pains that I might’ve caused you… You all, for there’s more than one in the works whenever I’m foreman. Brianna, Sarah, Katrina, Sade, Erykah, all of those who I believed I left confused if not alone. I was unclear of intentions because I didn’t know what my intentions even were, I was winging it like birds on their migrations. And now I’m stuck in a reminiscent past like tires stuck in muddy earth. Am I allowed to feel such empty emotions? Am I allowed to feel apologetic even if nothing was deemed wrong? Wronging all of those who come to me like grading papers, but still in the field looking for a future counterpart, my next meal as if I’m a vulture. And for that, I can never forgive myself enough to rise over it.
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Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
Vent #7
By the love in my heart, I never meant to do you any wrong. In all my meaning, I intended to curb your appetite for love to the best of my intentions. Only, the hunger for it in your heart was so voracious that, even if I were to have been around enough for it to have made a difference, I couldn’t have sated you. And I humble myself to that fact. By the heat of my body, I never meant to miss you. I thought what was past was past and that I could escape it by running. But I’m out of gas on an abandoned highway and your memory stuck behind me, willing to show its presence but not to pass me. By the chill in my soul, I never meant to abandon you. Sure, you brought out the worst in me, skipping classes, cursing more, using every knot of energy to find different ways to connect to you, but you also brought out the best, for if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve figured out how pivotal human love was to me. I still crave it to this day like junkies and needles. But I can’t feed. Let’s admit it, I say everytime that I won’t find someone like you and that I’d stop trying, but I always do and then treat them the same way I treated you- with contentment, but a sense of caution, not too close to be intimate but not far enough to be distant. And then I leave. It’s my schedule, my signature of leaving a trail of confused and broken hearts behind as if I were smashing glasses. I’m sorry for the pains that I might’ve caused you… You all, for there’s more than one in the works whenever I’m foreman. Brianna, Sarah, Katrina, Sade, Erykah, all of those who I believed I left confused if not alone. I was unclear of intentions because I didn’t know what my intentions even were, I was winging it like birds on their migrations. And now I’m stuck in a reminiscent past like tires stuck in muddy earth. Am I allowed to feel such empty emotions? Am I allowed to feel apologetic even if nothing was deemed wrong? Wronging all of those who come to me like grading papers, but still in the field looking for a future counterpart, my next meal as if I’m a vulture. And for that, I can never forgive myself enough to rise over it.
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10
I'm still me, But now I'm improved. I'm still be, The girl you always knew. But now I'm better. I'm nicer. I'm less judgmental. I am forgiving, And I apologize. I'm sorry for wronging you in the past. But I've finally turned the page, At last. I'll forgive you, For whatever you've done. Because tomorrow it will still, Be a rising sun. I've grown up a little more, I'm ready to see, What this world has in store.
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Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
A New Me
you know the days the ones where you regret every stupid thing you’ve ever done look back over your shoulder wistful at wisps wilted and slipped through numbly fumbling fingers while you were busy tightening your heavy cloak of unlovability the love you longed got stuck inside the mirror of nonsensical symmetry we are like children inexperienced and naive never taught how to handle snow globes brimming with God disagreeing over methodologies to get it across the finish line self-righteously wronging from craves crumbled to do it right because it’s Us in there enshrined in white orbitals frosted characters waiting for whirls to still so they can be seen on collapsed knees opening to the same page at the same line unshattered today is one of those
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Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
one of those
all the years of longing all the tears and wronging all your suffering girl all your strength girl you haven't been sure it hasn't been easy: dial his number and call him? ignore your deepest fears mom told you not to (not to!) bro told you not to (not to!) everybody said so (said so!) you weren't listen (you weren't!) he didn't pick up the phone should you try it again? you're a keen and focussed girl so you did (so you did!) a female's voice on the other line "he ain't there now try again in..." a man's voice in the background yelling "no way to talk to your father, girl" no surrender! never give up! life is like push-ups feel me? life is fighting nothing else feel me? never give up! call him again! finally you made it: he picked up shivering sentences spoken a long talk of fear and longing he wouldn't ask you anything dad made clear you're no daughter of his he remained distant no smile no joy you remain distant no smile no joy you're no daughter of his (of his!)
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Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 10:33 AM UTC
No Daughter Of His
Each and every single day, Doesn't matter what I do, You're always here to make me pay, For all the pain I've put you through. A shallow shell of long lost love, A vengeful scourge with black tar tears, You're always here to give more of My memories, regrets and fears. You've cursed me, shackled me, Forever with unyielding chains, That won't let my heart go free. My heart bleeds in its constraints. It yearns for you, its own maltreater, A masochistic kind of love, "I don't want life. I only need her!" It prays and begs to up above. The chains grow spikes, the blood is pouring, Every day, a hard fought battle, And through it all, my heart's imploring For one last day when it could have her. No matter where I look, No matter how much more I run, Even as I write this book, I know you'll be my only one. And even if you've ever cursed me, I'll accept my lonely fate, A punishment for all my wronging, One that I could never hate.
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Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 11:56 AM UTC
You've forever cursed me
they died or they helped the dying become a puzzle, to not merge they cried and run to protect their own life on the thinnest verge then hid up there, the wooden cabin over the trees, schoolhouse of rust scared of scary, of their own hands bathed in blood and strange lust a deep fall a Noah wronging no arc and love that ends up in the dust I’m lost in so much red and darkness kneeling with them, kneading past at five I’m leaving, it was hard how to clean up a soul in mud?
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Nov 1, 2020
Nov 1, 2020 at 10:16 AM UTC
bathed in blood
Love And Longing. Waiting Debating Rights and wronging.
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Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Love and wronging
I knew it. I knew you'd say that. I knew you'd go off and get all mad and then I'd go soft with my thousand apologies. We both know how it's going to go, so why do we still do it? A continuous cycle, a downwards spiral. The same dialogue, it's getting old. The pages of the script are yellowing and curling further unfurling a story already told. And yet, here we are. It's the same every time. Its unchanging, not even rearranging! And still, here we are. You're further defending, I'm further descending into my guilt but who's really wrong in these petty situations? Of course if it was you, though, you'd never admit it. But honestly, Who cares? These petty little arguments. It's ridiculous, at this point. And, of course, I know I'm doing it, too, but, You know it takes two to argue, yet you'll still act like it's not you. And no matter what I do, if I defend myself or let my guard down, you remain the same. You'll claim that it's just me wronging you. Why can't you see it's really both of us? It's so dumb. It really is. But here we are, running through the script once again. Just let it end!
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May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
The Script
could it be my tummy trying to digest all these heavy conflicting feelings the love and the pain the missed and the discarded the conjoined and the severed the forgiveness and the blame the righter and the wronging the know and the dismay or maybe the wine and the pizza... I'll go with C) All of the above
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Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 4:46 AM UTC
why am I up?