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These hands of mine
Small but strong
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Your breath washes over The perfidious shore.
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I remember night after night Sitting in my big red arm chair.
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Brown is the sound of her voice on the phone. Green is the feeling of her hand on my arm.
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Finally the time has come,
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Bloodied Hands, Bloodied Face,
He walks on by to another place.
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A silent stillness lines my soul
A fear so empty engulfs the hole
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Engraved torture Upon nameless epitaphs;
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Summon dusk to witness, The twilight, of ignorance's blissfulness.
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Engraved torture Upon nameless epitaphs;
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eyes open, wide awake
poetry placed like a slice of Cake
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Where's the light when the Sun goes down?
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we never remeber the how's,
the whos or the whats
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"Rosa sat so that Martin could walk. Martin walked so that Barack could fly."
But within those words another message was said
-
which is funny, because that's the only thing you're bothering
to hold on to.
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The air that fills my lungs is foreign to my body. My body, which is unrecognizable
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You don’t get to know me You don’t really care
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I stand in front of veiled soul to ponder thought and take control
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Standing before a crowd of the righteous
Clothed only in the pride of my name
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She faced the world with an empty stare
With walls behind her eyes
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It all makes sense now, The heart yearns for lovers past,
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Dedicated to the ladies on the edge
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Sailboats race along a puddle’s
edge while dancing children,
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My girl cheated on me a year ago from this poem date!
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To you who are so far away,
I do not miss you.
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It's funny how life seems to waver in front of our eyes,
you grasp and flail, reaching out, or pushing away
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My heart is like paper,
so easily torn.
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They are beautiful,
gems dancing in a mirrored light,
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I sit here at my laptop, surrounded
by the clutter on my floor.
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Imagine hands, smooth and sharp
just a hint of dust underneath clipped nails
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Show me your depth, nocturne; brandish her core...
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Misted city lights, far off
through a polished lens of fog
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Interpreting the images trapped and captured by the lens,
ancient astronomers and amateur star-gazers
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When someone's too busy to be with you, when it matters most.
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Guardian angel said to me
"You must realize, you'll never be free"
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I can't explain,
in a way that would coat your mind like honey,
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Sometimes that's the way life goes
It tears you apart
So you can have a new start
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The slow ponderous scratches of thoughts race acrossed a broken memory.
From the deep inquiring of darkling skript to the pretentious win
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Knowledge contingent on Knowing
Knowing contingent on Seeing
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Where has my muse gone?
Was it lost somewhere along the trail
of broken toys and dreams?
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The red chair did not move
All these years, though it
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by TwilightAngel026
6 lines, 2 comments,
on Mar 4 1:33 PM 2008. In loss, life, love, pain, personal, reflective, sad, thoughts, longing
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