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I wander a valley as dark as the night itself. Or maybe it’s my mind. Sometimes I can’t tell between the lines
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I love the sound of whipping wind through my ears.
It lets me know I’m not the only one who screams
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A man wrote down his wants today on a crumpled piece of paper.
He put them in his pocket to be accomplished later
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Whispers in the night Resurrect memories sometimes. Sometimes I remember you
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She wakes up at the crack of dawn Baking cookies in the kitchen all day long
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What is seen is not as said. Hiding between the eyes and ears;
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You spread a smile across my face as easily as butter to your morning toast. A look of your sparkling eyes; the touch of a hand illuminates
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The time has come for my mind to find me.
Maybe it was always there.
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“Don’t talk to them. They already
Hate you. They can see your spineless back-
by A-Solitary-Fantasy
44 lines, 2 comments,
on Sep 1 9:43 PM. In Thoughts, Life, Sad, Pain, Dark, Death, Suicide, Emo, Noguest
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How badly I want to touch you,
Hold you in my hands,
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Seven billion people on this earth And she’s the one mistake
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Fog shrouded mountains
Tell a tale.
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Gently creased parchment
Used to sail swells
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Seeing is believing to
The blind.
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Temptation lives In yellowed
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Mislaid in a suburban prison I lay broken
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One business trip; A night away from loving wife.
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You run like the river.
With feet flowing rhythmically across the ground,
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A cracked photograph tells of simpler times.
The day growing short; beneath that old sycamore;
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The day started just like any other, I woke up, grabbed his slippers and resumed chewing. Oh yes, he treated me well, I had plenty of other
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There is a place within the mind
Where a secret realm transcends reality.
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Had I tread more lightly upon the earth,
Maybe the ground would not be shaking;
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Rushing, running, rabblerousing
Leaves a much desired world
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“Who am I to leave the world?”
But then again,
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Slipping unto the cracks We know and behold;
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I’m longing for departure From this; my once coveted hideaway.
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The gentle songbird flies With the certainty of wind.
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Societies’ crutch, An ominous excuse.
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Scattered remnants
Of a favored dream.
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