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Literature Text
This illusion
This life we lead
This fantastical motion
These lines that we feed
These people we admire
These feelings that we write
This writing that devours
These illusions that we hide
This life that has abetted
These fantastical notions embedded
These lines that have unraveled
These people that we fight
This feeling that we shoulder
These writings that we cry
Disillusion!
This life we lead
This fantastical motion
These lines that we feed
These people we admire
These feelings that we write
This writing that devours
These illusions that we hide
This life that has abetted
These fantastical notions embedded
These lines that have unraveled
These people that we fight
This feeling that we shoulder
These writings that we cry
Disillusion!
Literature
Lies
Do you lie in your sleep?
When you exhale, do the lies just tumble out?
Does a lie always inhabit the tip of your tongue?
Ready to run free at a moment’s notice?
Because it seems all I hear from you lately
Are lies
Lie after lie
Do you even know you’re telling them?
Or do you mean what you say in the moment and later contemplate on your words and decide otherwise?
Do you care that you hurt me?
With every word cutting deeper into the tough skin I thought I had formed
But then you come with your charm and your knife
And you cut
And cut
I don’t even notice the bleeding, lost in your eyes
Until you’re gone
Then I notice
Literature
Hate
I hate
I hate well
I hate feverishly
I am the churning acid in your stomach
I am the blood pounding in your head
I am the white-knuckled fist clenching to strike
I am the red haze dimming your eyes
and clouding your mind
I am the rage that lashes out at the weak
the small and defenseless
justified by tears and fueled by alcohol
I hate passionately
I am the shaking in your hands
and grinding teeth
nails digging into your palms
I am everything you hate
boiling to the surface in a froth of
bile
blood
and excrement
I am the indiscriminate spray of bullets
at the school
church
nightclub
I am the madman raving on the news
heaping blame
Literature
Millions
Let me a weave a fantasy out of the cadence in my words, the tone of my voice, a rhyme fixed to a rhythm fixed in a choice Let my words bring a dream of a world to life, Where immortality is a reality free from strife Every hurdle surpassed by pure grit, determination, a bold dash of wit that lets us flit and fly way into a daydream of golden days Made of perfect summer nights and brilliant winter days having adventures where hurt leads to growth and pain heals. Because reality doesn't. We awake from dreams and close books to happily ever afters finding that the mundane is wearying and So close to hopeless that they're synonyms Just as 'wise man' has become an oxymoron because there are no wise men nor wise women just men and women and people living amid a dying world screaming at us through wildfires and gunshots plastic-wrapped and choking. We leave our minds and enter tired bodies, tired eyes, tired burdens others have set upon others set upon themselves There is no fantasy
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