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Literature Text
Why this?
Why now?
Why couldn't you just wait
It appears I've screwed everything up for us
For me
For you
For them
Screwed up by me
Twas I that sunk the ship
That destroyed the building
That set fire to your dreams
That watched as you burned
And walked off to find my next victim
Killer they call me
Destroyer
I've ruined lives
I've put dreams on hold until they rotted
I've wasted your time and mine
There is nothing left
You are old and so am I
I succeeded in robbing you of joy
I succeeded in stopping you
It was fun while it lasted
Before I played the mind games
Before I made you second guess
Before I screwed you over
Did I ruin your life?
Probably
I probably wrecked it and crushed your heart
I let your love run between my fingers
I held your heart as a trophy vanquished from my enemy
And I treated it as such
Farewell to you my love
I seek new flesh
Why now?
Why couldn't you just wait
It appears I've screwed everything up for us
For me
For you
For them
Screwed up by me
Twas I that sunk the ship
That destroyed the building
That set fire to your dreams
That watched as you burned
And walked off to find my next victim
Killer they call me
Destroyer
I've ruined lives
I've put dreams on hold until they rotted
I've wasted your time and mine
There is nothing left
You are old and so am I
I succeeded in robbing you of joy
I succeeded in stopping you
It was fun while it lasted
Before I played the mind games
Before I made you second guess
Before I screwed you over
Did I ruin your life?
Probably
I probably wrecked it and crushed your heart
I let your love run between my fingers
I held your heart as a trophy vanquished from my enemy
And I treated it as such
Farewell to you my love
I seek new flesh
Literature
The Cycle, Pt. 1
A bright orbit starts the day,
Slowly opening my eyes from The Bed,
After a night of sleep and comfort.
Too much comfort.
Because I don't leave The Bed right away
(Like I know I should)
To start the day.
Time ticks but eventually I rise,
Accepting the loss of newfound comfort with
The Fan and The Blanket and The Pillow.
So I proceed to The Shower,
Different way of feeling cool than The Bed.
And yet here, I'm warmer and accept it.
Too much acceptance.
Because I don't leave The Shower right away,
(Like I know I should)
Already cleansed for the day.
Time ticks but eventually I step out,
Accepting the loss of newfound comfort with
The Warm and
Literature
Their Story
Oh, phoenix boy.
Your story is fuelled by smoke and words,
feasting on dehydrated love.
Stolen gasps sprout from your spine
stretched to the rings of Saturn.
He wears his skin all back to front.
Oh, sparrow girl.
Your story is awkwardly stitched together,
stewing in sordid thoughts.
You are violent serenity in a wisp of a girl
dancing through the nighttime sea.
She wears her bones all inside out
Buried beneath her
sparrow skin and
his phoenix flames it lies.
Woven from grains of sand,
These bruises are constellations.
Delighted in catatonic embrace.
So the phoenix boy
and the
Literature
Story
"Story"
Can you tell me the story?
I know it doesn't have a beginning
and you never mentioned an end
but I can't really believe
that there
ever was a playful middle
when the other two ends of that
long and heavy rope
could have been pulled taut.
I mean, really
the smell of foreign food
wafts through the window every night
how can you expect me to sleep
when there is that exotic tang
right in front of
my nose
just far enough where you pull me by a string
and I can step into a world where
everything is not the same.
Second person stories are not the same
you've got to be there
to feel there
to live there
to know there
you've got to smell t
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A poem I wrote after hurting someone that I cared for.
© 2013 - 2024 robodude2829
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