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Literature Text
I
You will leave me when the leaves change.
I try not to be afraid of the future
Whose rusty bear trap
Threatens to leave more scars across my past-tattered ankles...
Maybe this time ill mean it,
Liberate blood with vicious, not vanishing purpose when you go
Like she told me
You would.
II
I'd like to think battles hard fought leave more than battle
scars, and weathering bronze plaques.
Women who don't have fathers lose their minds and I'm afraid I've lost you --
I guess every veteran knows
The echo of an amputation.
III
Eventually, patience wears to translucent leaves on the grave marker --
With a weeping shovel you will bury me
under fives years' worth of soil I could never account for.
You will leave me when the leaves change.
I try not to be afraid of the future
Whose rusty bear trap
Threatens to leave more scars across my past-tattered ankles...
Maybe this time ill mean it,
Liberate blood with vicious, not vanishing purpose when you go
Like she told me
You would.
II
I'd like to think battles hard fought leave more than battle
scars, and weathering bronze plaques.
Women who don't have fathers lose their minds and I'm afraid I've lost you --
I guess every veteran knows
The echo of an amputation.
III
Eventually, patience wears to translucent leaves on the grave marker --
With a weeping shovel you will bury me
under fives years' worth of soil I could never account for.
Literature
At Night, I Cry
At Night, I Cry
At night, I cry because I can’t stop thinking about the old me
When no one’s around, I weep warm tears that slide down my cheeks slowly
And it’s odd, I feel so unsatisfied but I refuse to use the word “unhappy”
I think back to the times where I would just laugh with my little friends, gleefully
Now that I’m older, I feel myself constantly over-thinking
Just constantly thinking of bad habits and fears
Maybe it’s something I did; maybe I’m the bad seed
Maybe I do deserve this horrible treatment by my peers
Or maybe I’m just doing what I do best, over-think
I do it
Literature
The Silent
The Silent
We are the hurt
The broken
The ignored
and the silent
We are the few who observe
From the corner where we sit
Forgotten by the people
Who’s lives throw them
Into social beings
We remain silent
Hoping one day in selfishness
That someone will break their trance
And speak to the silent who refuse
But observe
We hope one day
Someone will long to tear
Down our walls
That have kept us silent
But we will not let our walls
Be destroyed
For these walls are our treasure
And keep us safe to whom may hurt us
But we will keep it down
For who we care
But don’t be mistaken
For our walls are not to oppress
But to protect
To keep u
Literature
kissing a ghost
bend.
once upon a
time, i
inhaled a shooting
star -
silver trail
it was a falling
star (in
ha[i]led)
like kissing a ghost
in the parking
lot in the
stairs hollow
lips pressed
against mine
you said darling i
won't be here
forever;
just long enough
to make you love
me,
sunrise dim on
the horizon, blur
ring the li(n)es -
there is the present
and there is the
future but the
past is merely
memories
/fingerprints
enclosed in
stories between
the pages
and the sun
it is strong it
is bright it is
scorching my moon-
possessed
flesh charring
my lungs burning
my heart
like kissing a ghost
blazing fire blazi
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I tried to add one more stanza but my tablet literally wouldn't let me...I'm calling it a sign.
© 2013 - 2024 xxDearOblivionxx
Comments3
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This is very interesting. Great job!