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Literature Text
Knee deep in darkness of shattered sleep
Glass shards of heartache splinter deep
Pain-filled and angry I hopelessly weep
Death mocking with its promise to keep
Reaching with fingers torn to the bone
Screaming in madness of being alone
Belabored heart beating and cold as stone
Now a bleeding talisman I no longer own
Forgive me my madness as I slip away
Singing bitter silence of a broken day
Memories dimming as life goes astray
Nothing left to keep the demons at bay
Glass shards of heartache splinter deep
Pain-filled and angry I hopelessly weep
Death mocking with its promise to keep
Reaching with fingers torn to the bone
Screaming in madness of being alone
Belabored heart beating and cold as stone
Now a bleeding talisman I no longer own
Forgive me my madness as I slip away
Singing bitter silence of a broken day
Memories dimming as life goes astray
Nothing left to keep the demons at bay
Literature
Metus
One flat night, the wind stilled itself like a breath held in the worst kind of anticipation; the moment when you realize, too late, that everything has gone wrong with every carefully laid plan. Every alibi come to naught in the face of something far too dark to even be given shape: gloried in the feverish tongues of those men who spread their crazed scripture to those who pass beneath their perches just out of reach.
Fear.
The word dances across the lips of the multitudes, washing away serenity and sense, slathering a coat of ashen sludge across our hearts and burrowing into the mind like some virulent maggot, squirming for that last litt
Literature
Life's Bitter Dark Misery
Every moment spent in fear.
And everyday in agony.
The hate you show me.
The words you tell me.
The emptiness I feel.
You punched, kicked, wrestled me.
You shouted, yelled and screamed.
You laughed, you joked, you pointed.
These were the things I feared.
I was different, unlike, diverse.
That's why you made fun of me.
I was tall.
Quiet.
Fat.
Weird.
That's why you hated me.
The cuts.
The screams.
The numbness.
That's what you caused me.
I was alone.
In the dark.
No one beside me.
Who knew what would become of me.
Literature
Darkness
The pitter-patter of raindrops on cobblestones
when walking alone, engrossed in your memories,
your thoughts condescend behind you like a
narcissistic parent.
Vision changes, perspectives are skewed
downwards. A skeptical outlook becomes
a recording in your mind; when does it stop?
How do I get to this moment? Where did
I fucked up?
A flash of gunpowder, the mind lights up like
for the one instant where you felt hope. You
had an answer, but the voices keep coming;
smothering, snuffing; the fire is gone
and I'm suffering in silence.
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