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Perhaps for her, to be eternally chained in a dungeon would be better. She would know her place, and need not question her future. As his kajira, the object of his dreams she would be.
The man stood in front of his mirror As if he were searching for more Longing for someone to talk with Share his greatest feats And crushing downfalls
Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to not constantly Worry about what people think of me, to not wonder if that woman on the other side of the room - that hasn’t even looked in my direction - is laughing at me or laughing at the completely rand
Learn Between the Lines Scholarship Slam Power Poetry Poem Title A cryptic poem With poem casualties. I sit here, write here, and believe that the spirit will change them.
One day my burning desires will lead me to retire. Everytime i speak i unleash fire. Back then, i had my dreams covered in barbwires. kept it on the DL Now its time to release my sequel.
Love is a broken promise, signing away your life. Trying to find clarity; instead, finding strife.
Is intelligence a gift or a burden? They say ignorance is bliss... but I'm not so certain. So if knowledge is power... Why is power is all corrupting? ....this thought for me, can be very disrupting.
I was born as a boy with two siblings,
On the outside, i am sweet And on the inside i am obscene Yet in my heart, I am confused Because i doubt i am truly either Either way i am lost But my Shepard in the dark guides me
I find myself conflicted Full of rage Tears held behind Just for their sake No longer do I see the love Just the hate I'm ready to scream
Descisions, knocking on the back of my skull, Speak or be silent, Slip into oblivion or fight back, Be blissfully ignorant or painfully aware, Fight for the conscious effort or slip into superfluous fairytail,
Feelings. internal Expressions. external The vastness of the mind. immeasurable All the reason why. Unfathomable How do you begin understand something. Untamed How do you understand your self. Deranged
I feel strong But I feel weak I feel proud, Yet I feel bleak I feel gorgeous And grotesque I feel pretty When I’m dressed I see fair girls But I wonder Are they really