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Literature Text
I've run out of words to write and I'm afraid I'm losing sight of the reason I started: to tell my story.
I can't get myself to turn the page because my mind is too frayed and I fear I never should have stayed in my comfort zone. I should have branched out but I died before I ever gave myself a chance to live.
Now that I'm left starved of oxygen and my roots are sputtering from absence of water, I scratch another couple words in the infertile soil that holds me prisoner.
Irony strikes side by side with lightning as you peer down at the freshly muddied words that now read as my epitaph. You can't help but think that if maybe this rain had been in the forecast a week earlier, my flowers would be blooming instead of my ashes being swept away by the current.
The sun gently breaks into the scene, softly illuminating my last message and only one ever filled with meaning.
"Forgive me for I am a fool. Don't be like me."
I can't get myself to turn the page because my mind is too frayed and I fear I never should have stayed in my comfort zone. I should have branched out but I died before I ever gave myself a chance to live.
Now that I'm left starved of oxygen and my roots are sputtering from absence of water, I scratch another couple words in the infertile soil that holds me prisoner.
Irony strikes side by side with lightning as you peer down at the freshly muddied words that now read as my epitaph. You can't help but think that if maybe this rain had been in the forecast a week earlier, my flowers would be blooming instead of my ashes being swept away by the current.
The sun gently breaks into the scene, softly illuminating my last message and only one ever filled with meaning.
"Forgive me for I am a fool. Don't be like me."
Literature
What Do You See
What do you see
When you look at me
A stunning face?
A beauty?
A grace?
I see someone with a double chin
Pants that slide down
Cause she wears them
Again and again
A quiet look
And dead, but beautiful, eyes
Asking to die
But terrified of that option
Whether it be by her hands
Or someone else's
Calloused hands
From simple work
No longer soft
Or carefree
Only ragged
The only ones
Who have actually seen
Or felt
What's inside of me
Literature
Do you see me?
Do you see me as I see you?
Do you notice how I stare?
I see you look over your shoulder.
Do you notice I’m always there?
I see you look out the window
Checking on the weather.
Will you wear your long coat?
Or maybe your favourite sweater?
I see you leave the house,
Dashing down the street.
You’re late for work, aren’t you?
Did you oversleep?
I see you wrinkle your nose
When you ride the train
And that guy is way to close.
I’ll make sure he won’t do it again.
I see you get to work,
And for hours I won’t see you.
I stay in a bar waiting
Doing my best not to feel blue.
I see you leave work.
You are not
Literature
Please Don't Go
Its the simplest moments we take for granted
Just lying together on the bed
Taking in the silence
The presence of the other
My hands roaming over your skin
The alarm is set thirteen minutes from now but we don't talk about it
We ignore the thought
Because we both know it wont last
The sound I hate the most
The alarm ringing
Signifying the end of our time together
We look at each other
That small smile
Trying to hide the pain
But its there
'Lets get going eh?’
I attempt to brighten the mood
The journey is silent
Small talk muttered between us
As we approach the station
I hold your in my arms one last time
It will be for a f
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Self-explanatory. This isn't me coming back to the site. Just a brief little something possibly serving its purpose as a farewell...for now at least.
these words are my heart. that will never change.
these words are my heart. that will never change.
© 2011 - 2024 NOTHINandEVERYTHING
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Deep, strong, enriched.