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Ghosts and SkeletonsThey do not let go,
the demons of the past.
They whisper tells of woe,
never knowing that the events have already passed.
With cold hands of solid bone and swirling mist,
they hang on to the mind
as they try to reach the heart.
Aiming to break that fragile piece of muscle with only a hard twist,
they are unkind,
refusing to let you restart.
Their rattling bodies and raspy voices can push you ahead,
telling you to keep moving
and not make the same mistakes.
But that is only if you are not dead
and are forcing yourself to keep improving
and not lingering in the past for so long that your will breaks.
But very little people have learned how to control them,
instead letting regrets and ‘what-if’s become chains.
The ‘could have been’s become blacken gems,
sharpened to cut deeply into every vein until nothing but a bloody mess remains.
There is no escape from them.
There are only two routes you can take,
but how you may go about them is up to you.
Thank You for Being HereThanks for being here,
standing next to me as my best fellow musketeers.
I’m not easy to be with,
my insecurities and flaws,
making the idea that I’m perfect a myth,
the thought that I have any solid personal laws
Together, we dance our own waltz,
craving out our place in life.
You guys aren’t perfect either,
your sanity changing with every movement of a knife.
I’m your breather,
Our versions of insanity
collides and molds us,
bringing us closer together,
leaving us in pure bless
and not in the cold weather.
Our ghosts and monsters are trying to lock us inside.
I would have died,
if I was the same person before I met you two.
You have pushed my skeletons from taking over me,
keeping me true
and most certainly free.
I am alive because of your love.
You two don’t have wings of a dove.
The leather devil wings
contrasting to the angel wings you say I have.
You made me richer than past kings,
the love we share not being halved.
You made me b
Love verse InfatuationLove is friendship,
whose bond has grown
to being able to know that you aren’t ever alone.
Love is trust,
built over time to last
even when the god of time’s reign finally pasts.
Love is slow,
safe in a pocket of time,
all its own.
Love is meaningful,
the little things that are truly peaceful.
Love is deep,
faithful whispers to one another,
hearts forever bound to each other.
But love is often mislabeled,
passed off as something that is quite disabled.
The hot pain that leads some to temptation,
which is now called infatuation.
Infatuation is desire,
whose bond is missing,
lost in fantasy wishing.
Infatuation is suspicion,
green eyes jealousy
whispering tales of a possible enemy.
Infatuation is fast,
hot passions and skin to skin contact that never last.
Infatuation is meaningless,
only cold sheets and a growing black hole.
Infatuation is shallow,
only so deep as cheap cotton sheets.
Now tread carefully,
as you go through life,
often in the foggy cover of
No OneYou laugh,
and no one knows you’re dead inside.
and no one knows what happens when they turn around.
and no one knows that this is a game that you are forced to play.
and no one knows the secrets that you hold.
and no one knows that you bleed.
Under ConstructionI know I'm not perfect;
there's no need to point that out.
I know my flaws and mistakes,
my shortcomings and downfalls.
But I'm not done yet.
I working on myself,
trying to make myself better than I was yesterday or last week or last year.
Hammering out the dents,
buffing out the scratches,
replacing broken or outdated parts,
adding new pieces.
I'm a work in progress,
barely a rough draft.
somewhere in the far future,
I will be done.
All the lines cleaned,
the inking neat,
the colors working together.
Someday I will be complete.
Or maybe I will never stopped being worked on,
even when I'm lying in coffin,
my hands folded across my breast,
or my body is burned to ash and poured into a clay jar.
People shall talk about me,
my failures and successes.
People will remember me,
thinking about the moments we spent together.
Titles will be added and taken,
I will be a topic for argument.
This is all ok because it will help create a picture of who I am,
from both my eyes and the eyes o
Aren't We Ugly?Aren't we humans an ugly race?
Killing each other as if we are mad dogs,
not even children,
who are no more than ten,
They swirl together to create the monsters that we are.
There are no monsters under the bed,
there are no nightmares;
there is only humans.
There is only us.
Aren't we ugly?
The angels are running,
the demons are hiding.
The Devil is screaming,
every last one of them,
The other life that is somewhere out in space
is telling us to stay on our planet.
They do not want our sins and ugliness to destroy them.
They are asking us,
'aren't you an ugly species?'
Parents are crying,
asking God why.
A nation is mourning.
A world is burning.
Aren't we ugly?
There is no fated "end of the world".
The end of the world will come day,
but not by some unseen hands.
The day that the Earth dies will be done by our own blood soaked hands.
aren't we ugly?
LostI became lost,
mixed in a unfamiliar crowd.
I was confused,
I was quiet.
I didn't know what to do.
Maybe this was my body's way of reacting,
without any tears,
that today is the first holiday without them.
The first holiday that was supposed to be about family,
but without a complete deck of cards with familiar smiling faces.
Others were reacting too,
just in way different from my.
My father was quiet,
My aunt was smiling
with a lens made of unshed tears.
No one else who was family knew.
They didn't know.
Or maybe they did,
but wasn't thinking about the past,
only thinking about the future.
I don't know.
I only know my own confusion,
and my guesses to what two people in my family were feeling
as we walked in shades of gray with shadows of others around us.
Demons and The Devil Cry Too, You KnowDemons,
even the Devil,
That might seem strange,
and I'm sure some will protest to this.
How could those evil creatures,
those monsters whose home is Hell,
They feel only anger and hate,
they only know death.
This is where I put a halt in their questions and statements.
This is where I ask them this-
humans feel anger and hate,
angels can feel anger and hate.
So why shouldn't those who live the darkness be able to cry?
The Devil was cast out of his home,
stripped of his glory and pride,
left to rule in a world of both fire and ice.
Demons are subject to disgust and distaste from those who are supposedly good.
Yet, the souls of those who are "good",
those who are just mere specks of grain of sand on the Earth,
are coming more and more down to Hell.
The demons are crying for the hypocrisy of it all,
the Devil is crying for unfair treatment that he received
even though he was right about humans.
They cry because they want love,
the warmth that th
Being a Best Friend, a Sister, and the FutureIt's kinda funny when I stop to think about our relationship.
I have siblings of my own,
but I don't get along with them half as well as I get along with you.
I wouldn't say it's because we not related-
that seems like a lame excuse-
but I like to think I complete you,
just as much as you complete me.
You are wild and free,
with being every way the good kind of crazy.
You are loud and maybe a bit impulsive,
but you always worry about me.
You smile and laugh,
with no barriers to hold you back,
with no care about you is watching you.
Sassy comebacks roll off your tongue,
as someone thinks that they can knock you off the throne you have made.
I am calm and reserved,
rather burying my head into a book.
I am quiet and makes decisions based on facts,
but can sometimes seem a bit weird or nerdy.
I smile and laugh softly,
feeling awkward in a crowd,
wishing to somewhere else with a pad of paper and a pencil in my hands.
Innocent remarks escape my lips,
as someone boast about something that pip
TruthLogic is seeing
Pain is teaching
Blindness is strength
Balance seeks itself
My soul is sooted
you can runfather, father, will no one see us,
will the sun shield us with her bedouin cloth,
years from now will i be ashamed of what i had or
when i was whimpering in the open under dust-
soaked banners of the sun
father, father, mouth to your ear,
my sand-golem, have you ever been, if yes,
have you ever been here,
will we tumble down the crater, father,
will we let them pass,
who would be searching for us
between the frigid lips of the desert,
who would send hounds after us
except they're running,
who would leave tracks of dried saliva,
tumbleweed tongues, father,
are they far away and are we cowards
and if we are,
father father, will no one see us,
will my wish be granted,
will i be cocooned in sandstorm daggers
to be blinded, ten
years from now when i crawl out of the crat
True Strength LiesHeroes are strong beyond physical belief
With the bulking muscles to intelligence
With super powers to physical perfection
The image everyone wants to be
Heroes are stronger than any man
They are gods in the flesh
They can crush temples and fight monsters with their bare hands
They are only myths, but they are images
Be as strong as the almighty Hercules
You have the strength within to control everything
Destiny works against you and for you
All that matters is strength
Images, that's all they are
Hopes in having that body of Hercules
The tiny man getting picked on to becoming a strong man
Strength in the form of an image, but not a inward image
Samson, oh Samson
Just as bold and mighty as Hercules
The last judge who flirted with danger
He was stronger than any man, but he was really weak
A Nazarite who couldn't say no to all things that were bad
Flirted with danger with his physical being
But then was crushed by Delilah for a payment of 1,000 pieces of silver
Given into the hands of a
Lydia: The WallI used to live behind a wall,
a barrier separating me
from Those Out There,
and them from me,
tall and wide,
Some bricks were laid
some by religion
some laid by others,
some by myself,
and so the wall grew.
Some bricks were pretty,
others I hated,
some made me feel safe,
Some I wished I could break away -
others I never wanted to,
and so the wall stood,
my friend and my foe,
from Those Out There,
and them from me.
There it stood,
Gentile and Jew,
woman and man,
Greek and foreigner,
slave and free,
rich and poor -
my neighbour and me,
I felt safe
because of the Wall -
you broke it down.
Down it fell
as men took women seriously -
this woman -
Down it fell
as Jews entered a Gentile home -
my home -
Down it fell
as you gave me
a new life,
a new perspective.
Let me live
a life without walls
in your House without locks
where all may come in.
Let me invit
I ask for Your strength
And Your energy, Lord
For my dearest friend and me
Send Your Holy Spirit
To guide our footsteps
Provide what You know we need
For Your promise
Will not give us more than we can bear
On FractalsI encode the commands
that instruct the machine:
and plot points softly.
Art predating earthly creation
hides within the nature of numbers.
Here, there is a sun;
there, a solar system;
yonder, an arabesque.
Beauty, from before
the light that was to be,
now awaits without fear
whatever end may one day come.
Discovered, as they were,
barely more than a lifetime ago,
these wonders, to us, are strung
between the infinities of time,
on sheets of pure mathematics
glimmering with the fingerprints
UntitledLord, it breaks my heart to hear
My dear friend's troubles
My only wish is to be near him
But, Lord, I know you are
Even though I am not
Father, I am worried about him
And I long to be there
Right beside him
Because I love him, Lord
Jesus, I ask
Please, stay with him through it all
Be his strength, energy, and comfort
Keep him safe
And keep him strong
In Jesus' name
Reflecting BeautyMirror, Mirror on the wall
why do I look the ugliest of all?
Crooked teeth and blemishes everywhere,
with bushy eyebrows and pathetic eyelashes.
A girl's hair is supposed to be her crown,
and mine is the ugliest one around.
Is this some cruel trick,
can I really be that plain and ugly?
Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
sometimes you are the unfairest of all.
All my attempts to be lovely,
only for you to reveal to be in vain.
I want to be a breathtaking beauty,
so why does it always back fire in my face?
Deep down I know I'm plain,
so why does it hurt to look at you?
Whisper, whisper of a quiet voice,
that is certainly not how I see you.
Perfect teeth and a flawless face,
with perfect brows crowned with grace.
Soft raven black hair with curly waves,
a beautiful veil to accent your face.
I look not at the appearance of man,
but at his very heart and spirit.
Whisper, Whisper of a quiet voice,
how precious to me is your plain form.
It was made by my hands,
to encase my beautiful little gi
WingsI want to fly so high,
higher than the stars that twinkle so brightly,
as if they are challenging me to try and reach them.
No one thinks I can go that high;
they don't even believe that I can get two feet off the ground.
That what they imply,
but I know why they say I won't ever get off the ground
so I shouldn't even dream.
They have let themselves down far too many times,
digging a hole deeper and deeper,
far and far away from the sky.
They don't want me to touch the sky
because they don't want me to achieve my dream,
when they couldn't and won't even try to brush against it.
the ones that have put themselves so low,
that they don't know how to climb out.
So they lash out,
striking at others who they see as someone they could have been.
I won't let them pull me down,
chaining me to the Earth and tear away at me
as if I was Prometheus and they, my razor sharp eagle.
I will fly,
even if I have to build my own wings.
They won't be made of feathers
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