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The kindness that draws A spirit closer to home The mindlessness, flaws That makes us our own Are all part of people Those lost and those found None reaching the steeple But all heaven bound
A Dreary Twist My thoughts are in a continuous loop There is no end or beginning to this. It is impossible to tell how it came to be. This cycle of mine is similar to someone’s life With no change, stagnant.
Time and time again, we repeat, To live previous lives, We live and then weep, We then warn and die, But despite our best teachings, Descendants are our kin,
Roughly Windswept fickle hairs, Motley, many, green and fair An Intricate commodity Blindly trampled haughtily Each so glossy, keen and thin All will fall, though none know when
O brazen man thus shackled hereWhat brought you to this lonesome place?Not lies nor law or liberty,But treasureHidIn Deep.
An ancient golden hue of sorrowHaunts my yesterday's tomorrow.My pilfered time yet still on borrowThe Brass Plaque.
Here we are, Once again. Through this cycle Of ups and downs. Here we are, With the misunderstanding, The miscommunications. Here we are, The back and froth,
Breathing in And out As tears cascade down From eyes that have Not yet seen light Down her gentle Features until they Reach the cliff Of her face and Drop to the floor -splash.
Blessed with the gift of freedom We’re constantly at war with an idea The idea of being true to ourselves and to each other I sit, looking out, seeing PEOPLE, PLACES MOMENTS
America the Great, for what we are known for. Living in the Mid-West I feel every season. Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter, all in one. The hot summer days are gone before the blink of an eye with winter on its way.
He's using his peer influences to abuse the chances that he was given Life lessons run through his head you can tell he's feeling resentment Aggravating headaches he seems to neglect propriety
There is no end to the circle I live in. I attempt to trace back my steps, but my resistance is met by force. Around and around I go: Stuck within the rotation- my existence is characterized by one of two states:
Maybe she would AgeAnd of many yearsDieBut one option she could not TakeWas ridding herself ofLife She would ScratchAnd rip her SkinCausing damage that could onlyScar She would cryTears dripping quickly She would begKnees scraping against the grou
Last night I thought that the Moon had disappeared. A clear sky with no Moon When I knew it should be a quarter full I'm still not sure where it went
And the World Ended the cycle is over and will begin anew with differnt players on a differnt stage telling the same story of sorow and of joy endings and begenings but its alright
I'm awaken coldness brushes against my cheek tears slowly pouring out of my eyes step-by-step
Closed walls, walled hearts narrow halls, hollow parts. A man alone, set apart Black Turnstone, hidden heart. High throne, thin skin
It’s strange, isn’t it? Its warmth is needed for survival But as soon as you reach toward it As soon as you try to look at it a little more closely You get burned You're blinded
A Simple Seed Existence The seed everyone shares Ignorant and seemingly unremarkable it grows
They told me, Sometime during your inception That I was given a gift
I stare into a shrinking candle’s flickering flame on my dusty, wax stained rug, on empty, still, Friday nights.
Women are equal as men. Although it takes two to make a baby, babies would not be in this world without women. I do believe the creation of life is a 50-50 job between a man and a woman, but within the job, the roles are split up.
The sun had blocked the rainbow, Thinking it would reveal the gold. The ice had cleaned itslef out,
My whole life has been upside downSo deep in the ground
What were they like When they fell down, when they withered,
You convinced me to love you with the illusion of it being mutual.
Did frost bite me?
Love Pain Pleasure Sorrow Exaltation Incrimination Parole Loneliness Discovery Fear Courage Rejection Acceptance Hate Love
A lost soul in a pit of despair,
They stare down at her
Its a seasonal mystery One might recall of a boy and a girl Who happened to take a fall. Perhaps it is more of a one sided land Where the girl loves the boy
Cherish me when I’m an absolute fool,
They say global warming is a hoaxI say... "thats insanely wack"I am sitting here, trying to convince you allTrying to get you join my one man wolfpack
Teachers can be great, however, they can also be foul, some kids can start to feel like bait. Teachers can smile or they can scowl, but they are there to "help" us. They can whisper or they can howl.
The lion runs over the sun-bathed plains, Into the mountains where it rains. No longer a lion, but a goat, It treks up high, and then shakes its coat. Fur turns into feathers; it is now an eagle in the sky.
I once did wield a sword of light and a crested shield, these I carried into fight society's worst nightmare. I gained, after long, the upper hand a simple trade it were,
The teacher blames it on the kid, The kid blames it on the home, The home is composed of the parents, And the parents blame it on the system, The system blames it on society,
Encircled by an icy perfection desiring spring to rise and thaw yearning strictly buckled down our passions mustn’t gain control
A man, far surpassing his time, Sojourns patiently for the population To catch his wit and grasp his rhyme, But our minds equivocate in their stations.