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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Environment · #1333238
To be a captive in ones own world.
Deafoned by your silence, I'm watching you, I am waiting.
Because this bond was suppose to be something of such a high magnitude
Spiritual diversity in self discoveries and yet you give me nothing.
Not a whisper in the willows, not a drop of dew reflecting tears of emotion.
A heart less given is a heart so cold but we wish not to warm it as you lay still.
For the vibrations have stop and the fuel of pumping oil travels eagerly through your caverns.
Just another vehicle for a self loathing one wishes not to see.
But oh, how do you stop this ride, where are the brakes to end this rollercoaster
of passionless passions and emotionless convulsions.
To feel your eyes eat at my soul, devouring anything I thought I had left to give, I wonder about your thoughts as only a slight grunt and savage moan would be released from lips of degrading proportions.
Continue to bruise this temple, to ravish and pillage as one would only hope you wouldnt.
Leave this sanctified arena cursed in blasphemy.
Im watching you, Im waiting.
Hoping you'll see me before you paint my canvas with your sin.
Hoping you will know the fire in my eyes is not a desire but a self mutilating acceptance.
Of what you take. Of what you merely see me as. Of what I use to be but can no longer grasp.
and I close my eyes.
As the stains upon this soul shall last a lifetime and then some.
But its over now, until you steal again.
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