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Literature Text
The swirling of her vision
turns it all to black
while lights look on and think
How did we lose another?
Red gloves slipped onto pale hands
dead spirits stuck under fingernails
calloused palms, rough from wear
tightened grip on a false hope
Eyelashes, long and full
singed from edging too close
to a fire lit by corpses
smelling terribly of burning flesh
Irises, wide and blue
like a baby's innocence
a drop of black slips into the water
yet it's enough to turn it all dark
Hearts, given away in hopes of flower petals
have all bled out long ago
because of claws gripping tight
to a dream that's already gone
Whirlpools of light do nothing
black will always cover white
we learned that when we were young
painting pictures of smiley faces
Someone still sits on the couch
downing a beer, telling you tipsily,
Do whatever the fuck you want with life
Nobody'll ever get out alive.
And as insanity eats away at the last hints of life
will everyone finally realize?
Y'know, it seems like everyone that's called "insane"
are really the only sane ones here.
© TheRealDeidara29
turns it all to black
while lights look on and think
How did we lose another?
Red gloves slipped onto pale hands
dead spirits stuck under fingernails
calloused palms, rough from wear
tightened grip on a false hope
Eyelashes, long and full
singed from edging too close
to a fire lit by corpses
smelling terribly of burning flesh
Irises, wide and blue
like a baby's innocence
a drop of black slips into the water
yet it's enough to turn it all dark
Hearts, given away in hopes of flower petals
have all bled out long ago
because of claws gripping tight
to a dream that's already gone
Whirlpools of light do nothing
black will always cover white
we learned that when we were young
painting pictures of smiley faces
Someone still sits on the couch
downing a beer, telling you tipsily,
Do whatever the fuck you want with life
Nobody'll ever get out alive.
And as insanity eats away at the last hints of life
will everyone finally realize?
Y'know, it seems like everyone that's called "insane"
are really the only sane ones here.
© TheRealDeidara29
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Literature
ENOUGH!
There are times when I feel like tearing these pages apart,
Or perhaps, throwing this BLOODY song into the fire and watching it BURN!
Maybe I'll start plucking the keys from my keyboard,
Or simply swipe everything off the desk.
Each item shattering into a hundred pieces,
Much like the fragments of my dying inspiration.
Literature
To You
To the girl I saw
With the sad, sad eyes.
To the boy I met
Who wasn't allowed to cry.
To the man I saw
Who was falsely accused.
To the woman I met
Who was badly abused.
This is my ode to you
For you live on despite it.
I'm so proud of you
For you can still fight it.
The world is against you,
But it's not your fault.
It's just the way
This world was taught.
So live on, live on,
Don't you give up here.
It gets better later,
The light is near.
I believe in you,
I know you can make it.
I'll reach out my hand,
If you need it, just take it.
You're special,
You're important,
You're not invisible,
You exist,
And you'll be fine.
Literature
how to become a writer.
don't.
stay away from
pencils and pens.
don't look
at keyboards
or at blank pages
of notebook paper.
don't submit
to the emerald sigh of
vellichor,
the shredded sheets
of everything,
everything you've worked
your whole life to run away from.
don't live in the moment.
let love and fear float by,
just a skimming whisper,
because a whisper
is better than nothing.
a whisper is better
than the brittle falling-apart
of kairosclerosis.
suffer from catoptric tristesse,
but don't think about it
(for too long, anyways.)
look at the mirror
but never look yourself
in the eye,
because who knows what you've become?
don't write what you're feeling.
y
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I'd like to hear some opinions on this; what do you interpret from this poem?
© 2014 - 2024 TheRealDeidara29
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very nice