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Poetry Thread

Discussion in 'Congregation of the Masses' started by Finchinator, Apr 13, 2016.

  1. Blank Slate2356

    Blank Slate2356

    Dec 4, 2016
    Heylo! This is one of mine.
    Can You Hear Them (open)

    He ran upon the rooftops
    With a crazed smile on his face
    His gloved hand, grasping the handle
    Of a long, sharp, deadly blade
    "Hush-a-hush," he spoke no one around
    He then spotted his new charge
    A mother, carrying a female infant
    He jumped down and back, the blade now bloody
    "Hahahaha, the exhiliration of it
    To take a life without great strife,"
    Speaking to himself once again
    Then continuing on, under the blood-lit moon
    He took 5 more lives to-night, before 1
    A bystander, a store-grocer clark
    A priest (He enjoyed that one especially)
    Then two elderly, head offed and impaled
    Licking his blade clean, his mouth bloody
    His eyes wide, sharp and hungry
    He couldn't believe his infernal luck
    A clergyman (he knew), In plaincloths.
    Deciding to relish the sound of blood
    He suddenly looked behind him
    "Shush, shush now. Shushers!"
    Again, to no one visible
    The killer approached the man
    He was a foot taller than the clergyman
    "Friend, where might be the fields
    I need a dark place to keep mine gold."
    He was greeted by the smile of a boy
    Like a child looking up at am adult
    "Oh, sir, I know not this place
    I am new, perhaps newer than you,"
    The killer's eyes shook wildly
    He saw this boy and saw an angel
    So he helped the boy get to the church
    Then he saw that smile again
    "Mister, may God have mercy on your soul,"
    He thought, 'What is this?!"
    "And on mine," and the boy brandished a knife
    Then, when the hoods were off, he saw
    It was an assassin, worshippers of Hashish
    Yet what stroke him was that this boy
    This boy still had a smile
    Then, he too showed a smile
    "Ah, a killer as well? Marvelous!
    A kindred soul, perhaps you are?
    Tell me, how do you shut out the voices?"
    The boy shook.his head and looked dumb
    "Voices?" he asked, the knife poised to strike.
    "The voices from hell! They beg me to joi. them.
    I talk and kill to shut them out, for awhile
    How about you, boy?, Surely you-"
    "I don't hear no voices, mister."
    Flabbergasted, the killer was.
    "What?! How is that so? You must-
    Oh, I see. Then be one of my voices!"
    It only took 5 seconds, the duel ended
    The knife stuck on the killers heart
    The boy smiled, "It is alright now mister,
    You can not hear them now, yes?"
    He smiled, then laughed, and sighed
    Blood ran down his mouth, but it was his
    "I know why you don't hear the voices.
    It is because you have never taken an inoccent life,"
    "You do not belong to hell, boy.
    Thank.you.... The voices.... stopped."
    He breathed his last.
    The boy disappeared, never seen again.
  2. Blank Slate2356

    Blank Slate2356

    Dec 4, 2016
    Ii can only post one at a time so here:
    Teacher Of Life (open)

    He encourages and nurtures
    Like his own kin, every learner
    His life is his lesson plan
    His life is his student's material
    Teach, sleep, teach some more
    This routine continues on and on
    Yet his students never know what's in store
    For they never wanted to
    Spontaneous, happy-go lucky, crazy
    That's what this teacher is
    No mood with him could ever be bad
    No one with him has ever been sad
    He says things like: Life is unfair
    But if that's the case, fight what's there!
    And some like: I've failed more than you, class,
    I learned from them, and left them in the past.
    He's not perfect, nor a saint
    He slips, falls down, makes mistakes
    But that just means he's very human
    Not invincible, not like Superman.
    It was a few days ago, that he said this thing:
    Class, if you were to be in great danger
    I would always save you, again and again.
    That is my duty to you, as a teacher.
    He looked as happy as always
    But the atmosphere became solemn
    Then, he broke it with a loud: Anyway!
    The day progressed, happy like everyday
    Then, something no one expected
    Something grave had happened
    One of his class was found on a building top
    Poised and ready, aiming to jump.
    He arrived, and for the very first time
    We saw his smile turn upside down
    He talked to the firemen, that held a tarp
    Then he ran up the building, at superhuman speed.
    We never noticed it, he took the megaphone
    And we heard everything they said
    "My student, I taught you, this is dangerous.
    Come down now, it's time for bed."
    "No! They will keep insulting me if I live
    I know not anymore, what is worth living for
    I hate all this life has to give!
    So let me end this pain, teacher..."
    "You hate everything of this life?
    Do you really believe in that?
    You hate me, you friends, your class?
    The fun we had, when you laughed with us?"
    "Don't you remember my teachings?
    Me scolding you, the insanity we shared?
    I cannot let you say to me, you hate life,
    because without you, this would not be my class."
    We heard crying, it was our classmate.
    "Teacher, why do you keep this up?
    You have other students than me,
    Why, why are you so-so persistent?"
    "Why, is what you ask? Because of one reason:
    I am your teacher. I will rather die than see
    My class not graduate together
    Their bonds left in shreds,"
    Our teacher, put a hand in her shoulder
    And we saw that smile again
    "Life is harsh, and we are weak right now
    But you have infinite potential to be strong."
    "Now, let me ask you: Is this your revenge?
    To the people who bullied you?
    Will you let them taste the satisfaction
    That they pushed you to this action?"
    "Do you get it now? This is what life is.
    Experience the good, bad, pain, and pleasure
    Take every path you can take
    Spit in life's face, then continue on,"
    Everything went quiet then.
    "A lesson now, teacher? Really?"
    She said with a smile on her face.
    "This is the best time for this lesson."
    "If you still intend to jump, then let me go
    Let's jump together, right now."
    He was serious, we know he was
    His smile plastered, unwavered.
    Then they both leaped of the building
    Time slowed, then they spoke
    "My student, feel the exhiliration of the fall
    Take in every sensation of it all!"
    They were not headed for the tarp
    Or so what we thought.
    He pushed his student to its grasp
    Before they made contact.
    The last words were
    "My class, you've made me proud
    Enough for me to say aloud.
    Shine, like the shining starts you are."
    "Teacher!" What our classmate shouted.
    "I have already said it to you all
    If you are ever in danger
    I will save you, as your teacher."
    That was the last thing we heard
    Or the last thing we would hear
    From that smiling teacher
    Who lived his life, who loved
  3. Drew

    Drew Je ne parle pas français
    is a Pre-Contributor

    Nov 20, 2015
    I won a 6th Grade poetry contest so I guess you could say I'm a poetry god.

    Melting Snow (open)

    As the beautiful dress
    Is stripped from her wearer,
    Left is a shell,
    A husk,
    A hideous array of cold nothingness.

    The tranquil symmetry is lost in the sun,
    Skies clearing, yet leaving clouds below.

    Why must mother nature's calmness be lost,
    In her own stupidity, and as life is restored,
    So is the waste of all that is beautiful.

    A flood, a deluge, a tsunami,
    Of the hideous resurrection.
    Finchinator likes this.
  4. Finchinator

    Finchinator IT'S FINK DUMBASS
    is a Forum Moderatoris a Tiering Contributor

    Nov 10, 2011
    Untitled (open)

    I laid face down in an abandoned cavern
    Not an isolationist, no, but also not one who was willing to depart my realm
    The world was a scary place, full of people
    Call me a madman, but I call the world outside madder

    A mindset birthed through the couple of fear and apprehension spawned
    Grew up on the playground of judgement
    Like a toy a child no longer favored, the social outcast I was never saw the light of day
    Set to spend my days in the depths of this cave, never to see the light of day again
    Why depart my realm when I can remain without any risk, I ponder
    My whole life encompassed by some childish comfort zone
    I could not socialize, no I could make a fool of myself
    I could not drive, no I could hurt someone
    I could not go out, no I would end up alone
    I could not make new friends, no they wouldn't like me eventually anyway
    And I could not go anywhere

    While a cavern has no doors, my brain pictured a steel wall enclosing the cave from the outside world
    So there I laid, destined to perish alone and unaccompanied, but at least I was comfortable
    One day, a strong individual fought through my mental wall of steel
    She reached a caring hand out and led me to a new area, unfamiliar grounds
    When I reached the light, I shielded my eyes
    She swatted my arm away, had me take a clear look
    When I saw another, I grew stiff and silent
    She forced words out of my mouth
    And so it began, the great departure from cave dwelling to actually living
    The comfort zone became a thing of the past

    Once, I strived to survive
    Now, I strive to live

    A storm cloud from the direction of the cavern danced overhead
    Ominous in color and large in size, it appeared threatening
    I found shelter and stayed for a while
    Once it left, I came back out only to see that she had left
    The world grew dark and cruel quick
    The cave seemed to be an easy crutch
    But I did not want comfort
    I did not want isolation
    I did not want to be alive
    I desired more.
    And so aspirations grew into goals
    And my own life took off, in my own hands
    eht and aki0s like this.
  5. Genesis7

    Genesis7 LOIC stay loaded
    is a Tiering Contributor
    Won OST Predictions

    Dec 30, 2013
    "Gamer Life" by Gennifer E. Johnston

    We real noob. We
    home school. We

    Lurk games. We
    aint straight. We

    do geek. We
    dumb freaks. We

    jo douj. We
    Die soon.
  6. Lou


    Sep 8, 2016
    Roses are red
    violets are blue
    i don't know why
    but i don't wanna go to the school
    DragonLatios likes this.
  7. Huston


    Aug 31, 2014
    I wrote this about a month ago in about 20 minutes when I was bored in class. I have considered using this for scholarship competitions so have checked for plagiarism and all so thought I'd share my terrible writing, so here goes even though I suck:
    Prophecy of the Raven
    Thump, thump, thump, thump
    Hearts beat to the tremble of a lost mind
    To foster the waves of phantom fullness
    O’ what a lie, caught up in the madness
    Of a long lost chaos, a liberty oh so far
    From what we once called the inner home of freedom
    I start to watch the raven so eerily sitting on the tree, out of real curiosity
    Of the dark prophecy He proclaims so clearly, quote of His darkness
    “Ye shall fall, ye shall bow, ye shall hear the three night owls”
    The owls He speaks of are a fright to me, as I see so clearly now what He Has seen all along, we are in the dark and are caught in an eternal pillory pending our heed
    Fear, anguish, the agony of uncertainty
    Hail! Hail the raven for His prophetic warning
    As we are a lost people, searching in the dark for the light of peace
    One who went dim many a score ago
    One which is buried under the withheld mercy from our higher power
    Mercy of which He knows of, but not of
    Mercy of which He sees, but He is blind
    Mercy of which He holds, but cannot pour out on this land
    For we are in an abyss the raven warned of, we fell in and bowed
    To a power below the world, and to it, we vowed
    “To ye, we surrender, one and us all, to no higher power can we still call,
    For ye is the author, of our saving grace, we betray thy prophet, we bring the end of days”
    The darkness heard, and for days we sat in a dark winter
    Screaming for our salvation to the deity we thought was high,
    Yet He trembles upon hearing this
    As He fears our knowledge, lest we discover
    His true intentions, bellowing like a dark noise
    Falling down upon us in the night,
    As a curtain, iron and heavy we o’ so fear thy might
    Hail! Hail the aura of what we once knew
    The aura of a messiah we once held dear
    Whom now fears the rennaissance of learning
    Whom fears the candle in the night
    Whom is in awe of the truth that He knows not of
    For He is oh so deeply veiled in His iniquity
    Of heresy, never ending lies
    Of delusion, of dubiety
    I turn to my thoughts, oh could I be astray?
    Has this prophet led me to paradise
    Or to only disarray?
    I weep
    I weep for all of our kingdom, shrouded in doubt
    Due to one conceited savior, all consumed
    In His own false shouts
    Do we know the truth
    Or is chicancery about?
    Do we know the light
    Or is darkness all we tout?
    Here and now in this turmoil, we are trapped
    As if in a raging tornado
    A vortex of never ending fear
    A fear of our coming doom
    Our coming descent into a dark purgatory
    Opened by the illusion of light,
    In the darkness of a false messiah
    I see the vision in this moment, my heart races
    For it is now I know, the end is nigh
    The raven, most high, proclaims
    “Ye betrayed me thrice, ye conceited serpent, for now I shall deliver you to your fire of destiny”
    I shake in concern at His prophecy, knowing his error but not His way
    Knowing His voice but not his mind
    Who am I to discern His word?
    Who am I to discern
    When as a disciple of the true God
    I still fell to thy stroke of the raven’s darkness
    Was bound by the chains of His apocalyptic decree
    But now I break
    Now! I call
    Now! I pray
    Now! I know
    The truth of my world
    Of the true Him, Jesus
    Our savior, our true Messiah of this broken kingdom
    Of ancient seas, of bleak caves
    For now He comes, us all He shall save
    I see the raven, I have heard his cries
    But His eery prophecy
    I hereby, deny.
  8. Ardy


    Jan 4, 2017
    Creature (open)
    There's a creature living inside me, it resides deep within.
    My heart is pure and my conscience free of sin
    yet there's a creature living inside, rotten to the core
    And with every breath I take, it strengthens a little bit more

    He’s always active day and night,
    Plotting, twisting, laughing, threatening to bite.
    Filling my head with doubts, feeding me lies
    Till my head rings out with its sinister cries.

    There's a devil living inside me, I swear it’s not who I am
    I tell it to stop always but it doesn’t give a damn
    I love you dearly, but wish for your demise
    The creature living inside me won’t be satisfied till everything dies.

    I don’t think I'm evil, I rather think I'm good
    But there's a devil inside me, like a stalker in the woods
    When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying
    With every breath I take, I feel like I'm dying

    There's a beast living inside me, It rises to the top
    No matter how much I yell, it will never stop
    Destructive, horrific, chaotically immoral
    Always hungry for disorder and quarrel

    I can fake sanity, I can easily pass a test
    But with this monster living inside me, it may not be best
    Yet I put on a guise, smile and go about my way
    Losing myself with the people who I may kill one day

    There's something living inside me, something I really can't explain
    I carry it around all day as it has become my bane
    I like to think I'm good, but I don’t know any more
    For there's a fiend living inside me, threatening to rise to the fore

    You think you know me, you don’t know a thing
    My sense of self is nearly severed, hanging by a string
    For there's a creature living inside me, residing deep within
    Urging me on, for it grows strong on my sin

    I wish to die, to spare the world the horror which it will bring
    But I every time I try, I can never do the thing
    I'm too selfish, I love this life too much
    And onto hope, I desperately grasp and clutch.

    I know it’s no use. I've known it for a while now.
    I try to hate myself, but the creature won’t allow
    It’s gleeful, freed, brought to the brink
    Beneath its might, I start to shrink….

    I believe I am insane now. The world certainly seems less gray.
    It’s all black and white now, all that I have and will slay.
    The ground is filthy, dirty, with the blood that victims bled
    The world is my canvas, and with my brush…I paint it red.

    There's someone living inside me, I hear her scream and plea
    It’s what’s left of who I was, of the person I used to be
    I cut her off, silence her, for I don’t like to be disturbed
    I am the creature now, and my blood lust will never, ever be curbed.

    Finchinator likes this.
  9. Tripacci


    May 11, 2016
    someone's poem from an irl poetry group, and it exists bc it's almost (valentines!) tuesday, anyway hope you guys like it

    when two hands meet the heart soon inflates with a helium-like sort of happiness
    it rises
    and rises
    and rises,
    like a balloon prematurely burst it is
    when empty.

    - precaution to floating
  10. Reeksquad


    Apr 5, 2016
    Ah, great thread! I've dabbled in poetry before, but haven't been practicing or creating any new works lately. I should definitely get back into it some time, since it would be a fantastic learning experience. Here's a couple of mine:

    A Day In the Life of a Black Swallowtail (Made for a contest) (open)

    Flip flap, flip flap, the butterfly flies,
    Up and up, into the skies.
    Released from his organic prison,
    He has arisen!

    Flashes of bold black and bright yellow,
    What a beautiful fellow.
    Fragments line his wing span,
    Polka dots of the lightest tan.

    The specimen flew through the air,
    And the wind brought its brawn to bear.
    Despite this valiant force
    The Swallowtail fought through and came upon a delectable source.

    A single cluster of perfect penta,
    Of the deepest magenta.
    The flowers swayed harshly in the wind,
    But they stood firmly with a bind.

    The butterfly struggled to make it to the blossoming bud,
    But finally landed on it with hardly a thud.
    Laying down on a petal,
    He waits for the wind to settle.

    When the wind ceased its gusts and blows,
    The Swallowtail arose,
    And crawled towards the nearest flower,
    And stuck his tongue in the stigma and began to devour.

    When he had his full of sweet, sweet nectar,
    And the sun receded and the moon became a projector,
    He took off into flight,
    To find a shelter to endure the night.

    The cold night air nipped at his wings,
    But he persevered, no matter how much it stings.
    His efforts did not go unrewarded,
    For he came upon a wooden shack that was quite sordid.

    Cutting through the black murk,
    He landed daintily near the shoddy woodwork.
    The miserable structure sat near the edge of the plain,
    A few rocks surround it, eroded from rain.

    The butterfly fluttered over to a small cluster,
    To find a resting place that was not lackluster.
    Searching and scanning for a crevice or a crack,
    He found the former that was pitch black.

    Approaching the entrance of the narrow, damp slit,
    He crawled through with grit.
    Once safely secure inside the rock and rubble,
    He became inactive to prepare for a new day and new trouble.

    When the sun's nosy rays finally peeked into the Swallowtail's hole,
    He shook his wings and wriggled out like a mole.
    The wind was blowing hard outside, yet the butterfly stood stout.
    And he took off in a new direction without a doubt.

    The Beggar (open)

    Murky city, both sky and ground,
    Smog that is so profound.
    A land of cement and asphalt,
    The earth underneath showing its faults.

    A man, with dirty debilitated wear,
    Lumbered out onto the street, going who knows where.
    Having only one goal in mind,
    Sat himself down on a street corner and began the grind.

    Pulling a tin can out of his torn coat,
    He also tweaked his guitar and played a note.
    No vocals, his throat too dry,
    A purely instrumental piece, one that will hopefully rectify.

    Strumming the strings, he watched people walk by,
    Few stopping to listen, most turned a blind eye.
    He was losing hope, before someone sprinkled a few coins into the can,
    He smiled; he may be able to enact his plan.

    Hours passed, he had gained two bucks,
    But he had not yet hit the crux.
    Feeling tired, his playing grower slow,
    He put down the instrument, rested and laid low.

    He looked to the sky, the afternoon drawing to a close,
    He picked up the tin can and jiggled it at anybody in sight, trying to get the most.
    Nobody paid him any mind, and he looked down into the can, mostly air,
    The money would buy him something, but not something that was fair.

    Before the sun was replaced by the moon,
    Before night replaced the afternoon,
    He went to the nearest grocery store,
    To get something to eat before receding to his hideaway to feast and to snore.
    Last edited: Feb 17, 2017
    Finchinator and Matame like this.
  11. magicin


    Feb 6, 2017
    . (open)

    This world of ours
    Is full of horror and shame
    I feel yet
    I cannot fly from it
    For I am not a bird.
    eht and Finchinator like this.
  12. ChrystalFalchion

    is a Pre-Contributor

    Jul 18, 2015
    Something I wrote for my creative writing class. To give you a bit of context, I'm writing a fantasy novel at the moment, and it's the oath taken by the antagonist team before a battle. It's simply called The Oath.

    Show Hide

    I was once alone in this dreadful place
    I was once nothing more than my face
    I was a boy / girl who thought of no one but me
    I was a boy / girl who could never be free
    I was nothing before I found you

    I am the hammer that knocks in the nail
    I am the weapon that shall never fail
    I am the one come to fix the past
    I am the meal to break the world’s fast
    I am someone now I’ve found you

    I will strive to be above the rest
    I will fight until my heart stops in my chest
    I will be the world’s leading light
    I will be the sun to cut through the night
    I will lay down my life for you

    Finchinator, magicin and Logic like this.
  13. Nui


    Jun 30, 2014
    I think there was another thread about this but not for just poetry. I've been writing poetry/short stories since I was a little kid. Growing up, it was a form of expression and release and from time to time I'll draw up enough inspiration to write more. I really like the beauty of short simple unfinished work. Most of what i'm going to share are unfinished dumps of small thoughts I've had years ago (Literally went on my Tumblr today and found them) Looking back at now is nostalgic because the person I was years ago isn't a fraction of the person I am today. Hope you enjoy!

    1/15/2014 (open)

    "I’m not knowledgeable to the reason
    as to why fireworks light up inside me
    only when I’m exchanging words with you
    But never with another. Never with another

    2014 (open)

    "Like the glistening stars
    embraced by the inconspicuous God
    my soul is in the arms of inconspicuous love"

    Is there a heaven for me? (open)
    Finchinator, Reeksquad and eht like this.
  14. eht


    Aug 5, 2014
    I was in an extremely deep depression 2-3 years ago. I still read this from time to time to see how far I've come.

    Never Thought of A Title - 2014 (open)

    I grew to hate the surface,
    With its monotony and its emptiness.
    I grew to despise the sun,
    that constant and fickle provider and destroyer,
    as it seared my skin and evaporated my companions before my eyes,
    and sapped my mind as punishment for my own helplessness.
    Drained, I withdrew into my own depths.

    The benign horror coaxed me slowly down,
    feeding on my final sparks of curiosity and emotion,
    its charismatic appendages looping round and round my hysterical mind
    soothing me into resignation, no longer caring what I saw or felt,
    or how my lungs burned and my skin prickled,
    protesting their asphyxiation as I descended.
    I knew that to soothe the screaming animal would be an exercise in futility.

    No longer thinking, or caring for rhyme or reason, I sank to join the monster,
    ignoring that it was the one that so ingeniously concocted my pain.
    Silently down I drifted,
    lilting and listing with the dynamic subtleties of apathy.
    As I reached the silent black bottom of the brine below,
    the volcanic hotbed of adrenaline began to boil me alive
    and the pressure from being seven miles down compressed my soul into nothing
    and threatened to blast my entrails gloriously out of my ears.

    These sensations and my own queer convection,
    the roiling, superheated cycles and writhing seismic convulsions,
    those unseen fireworks that are the core of one’s unknown being,
    batted about my limp corpus like a cat’s toy,
    tantalizing me with the closeness of the cold, dark peace that I so desired,
    a desire that constituted the only distinction between me
    and the void I wished to quietly fade into, to create a true nothing.

    It would not be empty, this nothing, as there would be nothing to fill.
    My decaying world was empty; the next would be nothing.
    Gentle nothing, quiet nothing, peaceful nothing, uncaring nothing,
    Let me be free with my nothing nothing,
    let there be no me as I am nothing nothing,
    HAIL the coming of the true nothing,
    let the nothing inside me free, that it may join its fellow nothing,
    let nothing rejoice in my return to nothing,
    as my family of nothing invites me back into its nothing,
    welcomes me home from my fight against thingliness,
    a war not for peace or for victory, but for nothing.

    Caring little for the madness of desiring nothing, I drifted indifferently through the black,
    and slowly forgot about the searing, hardhearted sun,
    the quite, compassionate moon,
    and the lazily rolling, rhythmic wavelength of life.
  15. TMan87

    TMan87 You're filled with DETERMINATION.
    is a Pre-Contributor

    Nov 21, 2014
    This is interesting. Very interesting.
    I love writing, both in French and English, and I'd like to write some poetry in the near future if I could just stop being lazy and running a million projects at the same time.
    Would covers of game soundtracks (namely, Ace Attorney soundtracks) count as such ? I swear it rhymes and stuff.
    Also wondering if there's a Writing subforum somewhere around here.
    eht and Max. Optimizer like this.
  16. Dream Eater Gengar

    Dream Eater Gengar I'M CORRUPTED.
    is a Smogon Media Contributor

    Jul 8, 2014
    So I've stopped posting here or on my writing thread since I'm more focusing on getting my poetry seen by a larger community, so I've started up an Instagram account dedicated for my spoken words PM me if you want the account name. Anyways, here's one of my new poems that I wrote 2 weeks ago.

    Unopened Letters (open)

    Unopened letters are the only kind of letters,
    That are tainted with so much errors,
    When every single word screams sorry,
    A voice filled with agony and sorrow,
    Unopened letters are like space,
    No matter how violent are the words,
    There will always be this perpetual state of silence’s grace,
    Broken chants of these hummingbirds,
    Singing for love and a calm mind,
    Replaced by crows breaking all the harmony,
    Like a heart so blind,
    With no armory,
    Trying to follow the other lead,
    But these crows keep on intoning shattered hums,
    Insanity asking for a plead,
    As thoughts transform to guns,
    Late night sleeping turns into late night torturing,
    As these crows keep on plucking,
    Painful wounds portraying a state of mind,
    Soft breeze of the wind,
    Washing away the debris,
    Of this catacomb that is called a body,
    A sweet hum so serene,
    As the scenes becomes foggy,
    Vultures benefiting from this massacre,
    Take away with you some unopened letter,
    Because the only reason they are unopened,
    Is because I was afraid to send them.

    Hope you still like my style. :p
    eht likes this.

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