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Literature Text
This soft Cotton bedspread,
Clings to me like comfortable armor,
Shielding from the world outside my solace,
My one haven,
This diamond in the rough
In the metaphorical minefield called family life
Place your bets please..
Who really holds the winning hand
What do you gain from trust
Who do you stand to loose,
You or them,
Same old tricks new disguise
Ace of Guilt and the Jack of Deception
Black-Jack
Clings to me like comfortable armor,
Shielding from the world outside my solace,
My one haven,
This diamond in the rough
In the metaphorical minefield called family life
Place your bets please..
Who really holds the winning hand
What do you gain from trust
Who do you stand to loose,
You or them,
Same old tricks new disguise
Ace of Guilt and the Jack of Deception
Black-Jack
Literature
Decendant of Darkness
Angels of death consumes your
Anguished calls.
You fight.
You beg.
Undulating laughter echo from the darkness
In my heart.
I am the forgotten.
I am the reaper.
The evil cries out,
As I watch in silent awe.
The remnants of your mind
Is lost in the storm of death
that surrounds you.
There is no escape.
There is no resistance.
Here from the world i control.
The hearts echos their surrender.
Literature
Macabre III: The Creator
Sing your songs through my spirits,
{Poet.}
Sing your love through my thoughts,
Hide your life in white dots.
{Author
}
Sing your tears through dismay,
Stop your cry for my decay,
Boost your wrath and don't obey.
{Master?}
Sing your veins through my heart,
Burn your limbs with my blood,
Hide your eyes behind the glass,
Cut off your skin to the mass.
{Killer?!}
Sing your talent through my desires,
Spread your ashes through my fires,
Enter the prison of your mind,
Distort your traits in any kind,
Sacrifice your soul for all the liars,
That is what creation requires.
Literature
kaleidoscope.
Even though it is said that the human eye can see about 16.8 million different colors, we're all pretty much color blind in the end.
Today, I am blue, and you are red; today the fear begins again.
The sky is a milky white and your eyes are an empty grey, but you somehow still manage a smile: this is the first thing I notice. The second is that your shoes are untied, then that your gaze seems unfocused, then that your hair is a disaster, then that your voice sounds like rain and I hate rain.
You catch my stare.
I turn away because I am afraid.
You are uncertainty and unpredictability, and for this, I hate you; the unexpected is a d
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Those mornings at home when you know it would be better just to sleep the day away and not have to face the inevitable, parents that are more interested in their own issues than your own yet continuously try to convince you otherwise..constantly contradicting themselves.
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