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Whom It May Concern

Poetry By: Love Reaper
Poetry


Tags: Death, Lost, Dream, World


Inspiration: Say When by Fair To Midland


Submitted:Feb 18, 2012    Reads: 8    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   


With every whisper put forth, denial came into demand.

Oh the urgency, the thrill, how I ache, quiver in my bones of sorrow.
This fire inside, how can it become aflame underwater?
It can't, simply impossible.
For God is not on my side and the Devil has no use for me.
The constant being that throws me under, the constant life that fails me, how I want to give everything in me to not wake again.
They're dying in my head, dying with each drop of flakes of flesh.
There's only one other.
One other mimicking the same moves I create in order to survive.
But as I grow near, this being becomes more deformed and then I begin to realize that this being is really just me.
I am alone now, swimming in a parallax world full of Ghosts and Goblins.
They have ate all the Fairies, took all the wishes, yet kept me as entertainment watching me as I fought for a life we all knew I would not achieve.
Constantly giving me guns with no ammunition; full of blanks, desperate attempts to kill, but only cave in the end.
Peace of mind surrounds me as I grow numb to the full fledged blows to the head.
The miserable despair they think they cause me is my serenity, my survival.
Do I want this?
No.
Do I need this?
Yes.
Because soon.... they'll go too far.
Soon they'll want me to cry tears of blood....
Soon I will give it to them through my open wounds....
And soon.... I will no longer respond.




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