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Literature Text
I’ll indite my crude and clumsy rhymes
From my place in the pitch dark
And will wait all night if needs must
For that one creative spark
That will manifest thoughts in my mind
Into a charged lightning bolt
Strike my memories, open my wounds
And let writing be my salt
So cut me and see the metaphors
Floating around my blood stream
Pour salt on the literal lesions
To punctuate my primal scream
As painful at first as the memory
But after the initial sting
Wounds will heel, leaving only scars
Numbness replaces everything
This lack of feeling is temporary
As a writer I live for the pain
Of opening up new abrasions
To keep me lucid and sane
Deviant words in dank surroundings
Disturbed thoughts I can not waste
I apologise in retrospect
But I was in such a bad place
From my place in the pitch dark
And will wait all night if needs must
For that one creative spark
That will manifest thoughts in my mind
Into a charged lightning bolt
Strike my memories, open my wounds
And let writing be my salt
So cut me and see the metaphors
Floating around my blood stream
Pour salt on the literal lesions
To punctuate my primal scream
As painful at first as the memory
But after the initial sting
Wounds will heel, leaving only scars
Numbness replaces everything
This lack of feeling is temporary
As a writer I live for the pain
Of opening up new abrasions
To keep me lucid and sane
Deviant words in dank surroundings
Disturbed thoughts I can not waste
I apologise in retrospect
But I was in such a bad place
Literature
Screaming at the Beast
How many have I had? Why would you ask such a question?
I've had--only three! Yes, three I swear.
What? No--of course not, what are you suggesting.
Those: I can't quite see them clearly. Oh! Oh dear...
No, you, you must understand this was--just a bit of relaxation,
A little sip to help me sleep.
No--No, don't cry, I'm not going back to those days; I'm not!
I swear it was just--just a passing shower I...
I...
I'm sorry...
It's just been hard...
It's been so difficult!
WHERE WAS I SUPPOSED TO TURN?
...
But it's not your fault, I know that.
I suppose I was simply looking for an excuse...
I was drowning you know, in the icy wate
Literature
What's Left Behind...
Some days I find myself staggering from this hovel;
To stand with shaking legs upon the window ledge.
I look down at the tiny world below, wind rushing before me;
And I wonder if I'll be able to fly tonight...
The caress of the wind, so gentle upon my skin.
One step, one leap and I'd dip myself into the eye of the storm.
But just before my courage sends me;
Just before I take the final plunge.
I find myself looking back, at the world I'd leave behind...
Stacks of paper and a pot of ink,
Reams of stories too precious to burn.
Ideas and fears both rolled into one;
And pages of poetry left undone...
It always leaves me smiling...
For these
Literature
Dear Father I Loved You, But...
Dear Father, I loved you,
But this truth I shall say.
That you were the demon,
that made me this way!
And though I am hiding,
It's hard when it's lurking beneath:
This anger and hatred,
It's all I believe.
So don't speak or I'll hurt you,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
But you are the ending,
Of this broken story.
So tell me, dear Father,
What can you say,
To boy whom you twisted;
When you pushed him away.
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I love it!