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Literature Text
hey, where are you from?
from wasted youth.
what?
i am from a mad sad youth, from
dreams covered in mist, from old
broken homes, from funeral sobs
and weathered books, from empty
seashells, from crushed memories
and faded photographs, from moon-
light scars and rainbow moans, from
untamed flowers to infernos, from
childish fears and "Berlin Wall"
barriers, from moments of glee to
months of melancholy, from a place
that reeked of loneliness and dead
naked bodies, from post-orgasm
fucks, from beautiful screams, from
this & that & there & nowhere &
everywhere.
oh.
did i scare you away?
no, i don't think so. at least not yet.
that's good.
from wasted youth.
what?
i am from a mad sad youth, from
dreams covered in mist, from old
broken homes, from funeral sobs
and weathered books, from empty
seashells, from crushed memories
and faded photographs, from moon-
light scars and rainbow moans, from
untamed flowers to infernos, from
childish fears and "Berlin Wall"
barriers, from moments of glee to
months of melancholy, from a place
that reeked of loneliness and dead
naked bodies, from post-orgasm
fucks, from beautiful screams, from
this & that & there & nowhere &
everywhere.
oh.
did i scare you away?
no, i don't think so. at least not yet.
that's good.
Literature
Youth
A thousand burning candles
lighting up a temple.
With the quenching of the last flickering flame
the aegis falls,
and the sacred building crumbles.
Literature
Her Life
I saw her life in those eyes
with cut-throat stares
and withered looks of daze,
each lid half open
and their cores darted where
they thought it was safe.
Her pupils swirled as hurricanes
with streaks of rain
maroon across a razor blade.
Sharing what words can't speak
and luring in the
sting of the day.
I saw her life in that skin,
painted with a tiny needle that could
delve deeper in what she knew
and who she was, then what.
Like an apple tossed aside to rot
darted across were plum-hue stains
and beautiful scars, an abstract dance of
healing and hurt.
Covered in what she screamed,
her body was masked in poetry,
long-tol
Literature
The Election
The Election
Once in a country not very far away,
An election was coming in a couple of days,
Three candidates with three agendas had set out to run,
The people would choose when the campaigning was done.
Billionaire Donald lived in a tower of gold,
His ego defied logic and his words were so bold,
He intimidated his opponents spewing fear to win,
and promised to make America great again.
Hillary lied at her rallies and acted true blue,
Pantsuit would preach equality as systemic racism grew,
Minorities flocked to her for overdue civil rights,
While her Foundation sold out to other countries every night.
Sweet Bernie cared for the tall and
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be kind.
be harsh.
be whatever.
© 2010 - 2024 loverz116
Comments27
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fffffffffffffffffffff i love this so much.
dynamic, powerful, tightly woven- i love the choice of words and the end just makes me smile. beautiful. absolutely beautiful.
dynamic, powerful, tightly woven- i love the choice of words and the end just makes me smile. beautiful. absolutely beautiful.