Open Poetry #42 |
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Dealing with life, trucking on... |
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xTr3m3sT Member
since 2008-03-03
Posts 415 |
Flames of anguish spark up with intensity while I hear the heavens call my name secretive poisons flowing with vanity inside my mind that has no shown shame. Seen within the boundries of my soul is a troubled child, lost and afraid that his heart and spirit will turn as dark as coal and his ability to live will degrade. Silence rushes to my lips like blood but my hand is able to voice my fingertips are my diamond-like studs they have to write, they have no choice. So as this poem draws to dissolution I want to let you all know my behavior has really no solution and I have no improvement to show. [This message has been edited by xTr3m3sT (05-07-2008 02:35 PM).] |
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Robert E. Jordan Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-25
Posts 8541Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
Yo Angel, This has very good meaning to me. Keep those fingertips moving--write on. BTW, that should be “poisons” not "poisens"—might as well get it right. Bobby |
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