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The Falling

Poetry By: Love Reaper
Poetry



Come back to reality.


Submitted:Jul 18, 2009    Reads: 65    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   


Who do you think you are,
Mister hot shot.
Strolling around,
Like you've got no sense.
You've forgotten who you are.
The money,
The Fame,
Straight shot to the head.
For the bullet is deadly,
What a terrific death.
As the bullet comes close,
Your petty life flashes before your ignorant eyes.
All the time,
You thought you were unstoppable,
Invincible,
But not today.
For the bird catcher is more deviant than the bird,
Much more alert.
The bird catcher appeals to the desire of the heart.
For your eyes are the windows to the home of it.
For your foolishness and thinking you'd get away,
You've become obstinate,
Paranoid,
Pop comes the sound of doom.
For the bird catcher is a success,
He shall win you over with not his words,
But what's in your character.
Petty do one's feel,
For you shall reap,
What you have sown.
And as you slowly die,
You remember,
You see what you've become.
Too late.
You forgot who created you,
You didn't understand who controlled you.
For no one can kill,
What they did not create,
But I can.





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