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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Philosophy · #1059850
My most used form of writing is poetry
As I walk into a dark room.
A blanket folds around my skin.
Lifting me hiding me.
The universe collapsing down around with a simple sound.
Someone lurking shadow to shadow hiding and not knowing what knowing is.
Just dwelling on this and everything.
How about anything just hold to the noise the creeping vibes the hallow choices with horror faces the naked souls left behind to gain a few more smiles.

Its been far to long its been quite a while.
How will this end.
One big scene a darkness a hole a gap that grows.
A beautiful spectacle the great abyss with many lights they open me to this.
A rainbow of galaxies sucking me out of here blowing me out of here.
Just to get out of here.
What’s here nothings there.
Just need to think clear.
Forget the fear.
A billowing blanket a nestled crow.
A flowing river filled with endless hope.
Hurting just to hurt screaming just to hear the sound.
Who is this person who is this being walking clean head up high to see the sky.
Distant cousin.
Forgotten friend.
Names that blur with time.
A long lost lovers sweet smile scaring the fragile plain.
Not the same.


Oh that never ceasing forgotten tragedy the endless cries of misery the screaming sickness of self pity how it cripples ripples and dribbles all over everywhere they all stare it’s a shame all just the same never ceasing no I see no I am no I cry no its not right no choice lack any true thought all just bought and scored risen and then bored.

only truths in store….
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