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Im starting to write less and less
and Its scaring me
because I either have no sufferings to write about
or Its all become to much
which one?
how will I know?
whats wrong with my head
Its all twisted up inside
knotted guts struggling to chew through knowledge
am I maturing?
or am I finally turning to dust
I'm sorry if I'm not so sweet to hold,
its difficult when you slip through gaps
like the ones in your fingers
and the holes in your heart
I am terrified,
beyond all exemption
lost my bones
there shall be no redemption
I've favored a ghost
and lost all that was me
and now I fade
so effortlessly
I tried too hard
to be what was right
and now I loose myself
to the blade of a *knife
Let's be sensible
Where all going to die
No lies!
I say it with either quiver nor tremble
You are free.
And sentient.
Touched with beauty
Rolled in spice
Were cracked. Fragmented
Dissary
Dissapointment.
Caress me
Broken poets and Broken pens never think to scribble again
-*LG
Yell a  little louder, I dare you
Your heart is a megaphone set to loud let it bleat its message
to  the crows and crowds alike

Your mind is a violin, sitting like porcelain  in a satin palace
Singing a somber tone to its audience of no one,
so alone.

Your spirit is a caged stalion
ready to rare, flash its teeth, grip its hind legs and stare

But in my arms you are  a puppet
so warm and soft
I have trouble believing how much you must cost

because the wears you fetch and sell have amassed no fortune
and the hearts you keep in jars have long since stopped beating

move on with me,
skip town, come dance around
free as yetis,
and just as likely to exist,

my presence unkown to you now
will be the dowry on which our lives will finnally start
And in your eyes, I might finnaly exist
I wish I could write myself into your life
Erase the suffering, the strife.
Maybe when I learn to write
with an eraser,
I won't have to scratch out my mistakes
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