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Literature Text
The worst people make the most memories
in my brain, in my soul,
and years later I can still
pick them out
in a crowd of a thousand faces,
a million memories,
one similarity.
My writing isn't good
but I try to capture emotion,
the way you used to look at me
and the trembling of my heart,
the touch and kiss(es) of lust
and the broken hearts of dust,
and even when you're just a mistake
that lingers in my brain,
you're still here,
a broken mirror.
I watch and watch
and vow to never be like them,
but the truth isn't gonna save me anymore,
so I'm turning you into a lie.
You never happened,
we never happened,
the summer never stammered,
the thoughts stopped,
you are nothing,
you are blocked.
in my brain, in my soul,
and years later I can still
pick them out
in a crowd of a thousand faces,
a million memories,
one similarity.
My writing isn't good
but I try to capture emotion,
the way you used to look at me
and the trembling of my heart,
the touch and kiss(es) of lust
and the broken hearts of dust,
and even when you're just a mistake
that lingers in my brain,
you're still here,
a broken mirror.
I watch and watch
and vow to never be like them,
but the truth isn't gonna save me anymore,
so I'm turning you into a lie.
You never happened,
we never happened,
the summer never stammered,
the thoughts stopped,
you are nothing,
you are blocked.
Literature
first kiss
I will be
the rolling waves,
and you can be
the sandy shore
I'll kiss with salty lips,
and then keep
coming back for more
Literature
i promise it wasn't you
one:
that boy taught me that girls who speak up
are not fit for loving.
that bastard taught me that girls who say no
are not fit for loving;
it was my voice or my heart,
and i chose love.
(after all,
isn't that the greatest thing?)
two.
when the pain weighted my
body to the floor,
when the carpet covered me with dust
and claimed my bones,
my friends called me lazy.
"where are your wounds?"
i cupped my glued-up heart in my hands.
they rolled their eyes
and turned away,
asked me why i'd turn myself
into some craft project
for a hopeless, wandering boy
and night after night i cried
"i don't know, i don't know,
i don't know."
three:
Literature
I'm Moving
I'm going to live online.
Seduced to sleep
By strategizing baritones
Working their newest MMO.
Can I live online?
I've got a supportive community,
I promise.
People care about me there.
They listen, and they trust me.
My address can be an IP
I can even get laid that way
Within my domain
Where I can control my environment
And I never have to leave my bed.
The glorious thing
About living online?
I can disconnect from reality
And, be warned,
All real-world problems
Are sent straight to spam.
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I'm sorry but my writing isn't normal, and it hasn't been for a long time.
I try to write organized and nicely like other people, but the only way I can do this is if I just tell my story, very vaguely and symbolically, and submit.
Therefore, most of my writing is like speech. If you read it outloud, it has a different beat. I always write like I am telling it.
I try to write organized and nicely like other people, but the only way I can do this is if I just tell my story, very vaguely and symbolically, and submit.
Therefore, most of my writing is like speech. If you read it outloud, it has a different beat. I always write like I am telling it.
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Comments8
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Man, I feel this so heavy tonight.
The worst people make the most memories
in my brain, in my soul,
and years later I can still
pick them out
in a crowd of a thousand faces,
a million memories,
one similarity.
That made me weep.
The worst people make the most memories
in my brain, in my soul,
and years later I can still
pick them out
in a crowd of a thousand faces,
a million memories,
one similarity.
That made me weep.