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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1504887
I wrote this 10 years ago. Frustrated with the world.
Untitled

Stuck, snubbed out.
Confused between two loves, two hates.
No-where to turn, no where to run, hide.
Longing for shelter in a shattered mind.
Twisted, wronged out of place.
Relentlessly going on, climbing up that never ending ladder of life.
Pictures, memories, visions of ended days and cut short joys.
Years of dripping water slipping through a calender of holes.
A wash of grey passes over my gaze,
My eyes are nothing but glass balls in which I can tap on.
All of my thoughts and words collected all at one point and smashed,
Into broken glass, falling at my feet like dreams.
No dreams. No life. No deliverence.
The perfect paradice squeezed into a egg-timer and slowly draining away.
Tears of complete frustration, unhappiness, a complete dilapidation of unbounded misery.
The twisting, churning feeling.
Hatred, despair, desire and wanting.
Going round the next corner and being met with love and hate fused together.
Not knowing who to choose in your quest to find happiness.
Breaking down and totally giving up at the thought of trying to get to where you want to go.
The edge of the cliff that I'm looking over seems awfully inviting right now.
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