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a fish
outside its puddle
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Mirror, believe the vainity is greater.
Let the mood swings between your own subconcious.
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The wind ruffles my hair in waves of cool blue as the earth breaths deeply of the moisture,
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If Jesus will look at my face
He will behold a vanished grace
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from lightly swirling mists of mind she wakes
and sips a breath from cream and coffee walls
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Surging through the cavities and caves of having served
Confusion forming shape within my frying pan of nerves
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Oh the apple tree was glowing...
Full of blossoms lily white ,
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I still love to bathe in rain
Chocolates still work to ease my pain
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Maybe you should cry Try to find a voice
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Theres this girl I see, I dont know who she is
she looks back with a smile on her face
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I fathom where we'll be When time allows moments--
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It is so difficult to write, Even when hidden ideas begin to move me:
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About a couple of days ago
my arms were full of my works
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I miss the simpler times, When love was dead, and all a lie,
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Heart-strings that stick together and hold, just wait for them to begin to unfold.
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Sitting here all alone Thinking of my past
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Look in my eyes..
My colorless, disimbogured void.. the only flaw that can kill me..
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This solitude is so immense, Sweet waves cajole,
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The days are long and worried. Every moment you are in my head,
by Ballian
19 lines, 3 comments,
on Jul 8 12:10 PM. In Love, happiness, angel, needing, need, passion, reflection, dreaming, falling
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the bees buzz softly
the wind whistles through the trees
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This poem is part of a planned series combining metaphors about birds and universal understanding.
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Lay the bricks of crumbling red, Bind them firmly with willful mortar, intent,
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I'm living in a more real world then anyone else is and it's outstandingly raw and filthy
by msgoldman
25 lines, 2 comments,
on Jul 1 1:00 PM. In Love, Life, Personal, Pain, Sad, Reflection, Alone, Mistake, Desperation
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What in the world had I gotten myself into?
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And though the tides may rise and fall,
I'll forever be by your side standing tall.
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The walls I've built are stout and strong,
Yet they would crumble, for your song.
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'The gates were closed,
And it was a one-way street.'
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And these words are tempered in fire
Forged distinct from worthless clay tokens:
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Here I sit, near the bay,
Realizing here I've been all day,
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Poor Child has to be so sad
Poor Child has to think so bad
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Secure beneath her branches
I will sleep the night away
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up in the mountains the wind whistles through the trees
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strong oak is sundered
pieces lay strewn upon the ground
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Set your head down on the dashboard Eyes detaching themselves from the road,
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You came crashing down, When the sky vomitted ice.
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Somebody once told me, I was beautiful.
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There is a hole within my wall,
That promsies escape from this tomb,
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Flying on an airplane felt luxurious and was fun
but now it is absolute agony
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She who is obsessed with death is standing in the church,
Her soul within a shallow grave her heart under a birch.
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