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Poems about Dark
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Glory fills my soul, / God's mercy and forgiveness, / The flame for my coal. / / As if floating up, / High upon the ethereal palm, / I fee
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Boy grew from a mothball / In the closet of the house / Of Mrs Pevensie the widow. / / Boy grew to be an oddball / And moved under the hou
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Syrup Boy loved sugar in whatever form it came, / From candy canes to ice cream, he ate sweetness everyday. / He’d have éclairs for breakfa
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“it could all fall down around me / just as long as I have you right here by me” / “I’ve been waiting so long to hold you / and be back in
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I can't do it / I can't hold it / I can't keep up this fake smile. / Dried up and hollow / Yet the tears still fill my eyes. / I don't know how / And frankly I don't care / I'm trapped with myself and with my desp
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Get close. / Now closer. / Into the mind of my lunacy, / and I'll tell you why we don't belong. / Because we are different. / and irrelevan
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/ She stirred with some uncertainty as if she didn’t know / How she came to be there in the cold and sodden snow. / Trapped but without borders, she will never express / How much that she is missing in her confused distress. / / She shambles
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by marcusmoore
233 words, 20 comments,
on Aug 13 7:09 PM. In Adult, Dark, Prose, Life, Sad, Love, Family, Thoughts, Personal, Pain, Addiction
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Another Lifetime / / Oh what joy / I am dying / / I will no longer have / a thought of you / / If I should ever meet you / in another li
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Satan doesn’t have to come to me. I’ll go to him. / I expect to see him: waiting, massive, / writhing. / / I am too impatient for the bottle. / I chew through pure blue agave, / greedy for the gusano. / / Buffeted by protein, elixired,
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My fakest truth:
I tend to believe you.
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I concentrate on trying not to sweat. / You may find this hard to believe / But when I speak, I bruise my tongue. / This is me now, talking through the pain. / / Another Fourth of July come and gone, / And as soon as dusk comes I make my esca
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Something in me has changed and I don't like it.
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Somewhere over the rainbow, / There are no seven steps to heaven. / But the spectral paths of deadly sins / await my tread. / A leather needle and an alchemy den, / where, white-smocked, I gather / Solomonic shades for black experiments.
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Over my shoulder / A moonlit road / Far off into the distance / A shadow creeps / An insubstantial trace / Of a distant object / Whose shape it adopts / The trace of the physical body / From which it is separated / This shadow i
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I could rescue my iPod charger
from the clutches of the salsa.
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So nearby, who must observe with longing and
Yet cannot partake, as their jaws have likely rotted.
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As the bright lights fade into darkness / Another needle shoots up into my vein / I stand teetering / On the edge of a murky menacing /
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which he doesn't understand / why she dumped him without a word / he remains like one with his tongue / sliced off at its root / ................mute! / / looking straight / at its pointed truth / which has been shoved / like a dagger b
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Light the candles, serve the wine
Look at these blanks, my clouds.
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While you lay beneath the soft earth / Unaware of your untimely demise / I lie awake weighed down / By cold icy crystalline thoughts /
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