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Literature Text
Emotions roar out into the night.
I always scream, full of fright.
Unable to control myself anymore,
I really never should have opened that door.
I always scream, full of fright.
Unable to control myself anymore,
I really never should have opened that door.
Literature
Humanity.
Humanity.
What is it?
Is it good?
Is it evil?
Are we kind?
Are we cruel?
Do we care?
Or do we not?
Can we get along with one another,
Or does our blood spill into the river?
Can love overcome all?
Or do the three evils
Get the best of us?
Is it the bitterness
Of the ignorant
That holds us back?
Or are we incapable
Of going any further?
Are the foundations of man built
On blood and bones?
Or love and peace?
Do we tolerate and respect others?
Or spit on those who have different views?
Is the fire too hot for our liking?
Should we deal with it in blood,
sweat and tears for fruitless results?
Or do we live to fight another
Literature
Claustrophobia
Forgotten the sound of everything,
been living in my hall of echoes
for far too long.
Try and move between them and suddenly
I reach a wall.
It's clear, connection cannot continue
to blossom, as long as
you
are here;
this eternal monologue.
Time for this snake to
shed the dead skin of comfort,
no more lying about the negative
not being comfortable.
Rejoice.
Not out of obligation, but
awareness;
watch it join hands with appreciation.
I've found myself at another wall,
so just destroy the concept of walls.
STOP.
CON.
FIN.
ING.
ME.
Dig, dig, dig...
Literature
Her Life
I saw her life in those eyes
with cut-throat stares
and withered looks of daze,
each lid half open
and their cores darted where
they thought it was safe.
Her pupils swirled as hurricanes
with streaks of rain
maroon across a razor blade.
Sharing what words can't speak
and luring in the
sting of the day.
I saw her life in that skin,
painted with a tiny needle that could
delve deeper in what she knew
and who she was, then what.
Like an apple tossed aside to rot
darted across were plum-hue stains
and beautiful scars, an abstract dance of
healing and hurt.
Covered in what she screamed,
her body was masked in poetry,
long-tol
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Uncontrollable rage and sadness lead to mental breakdowns late at night.
© 2012 - 2024 SkittlesRus
Comments2
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A very nice poem o3o