Pause

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I think I'm getting worse at poems...

Submitted: July 03, 2008

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Submitted: July 03, 2008

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come rest in me,
although I crack, warp and fade,
away from all this spineless globe has waiting in its head.
 
live quickly now,
you only get a day for bleeding out,
all the things you wish you could remember to forget.
 
I am waiting here.
I am breathing deep,
You will cry out for disillusionment.
 
fire all those men,
who plead and beg and rip apart your mind.
Your barely beating heart will raid its light for consonance.
 
You are waiting there.
You are hyperventilating.
I will cry aloud for serene solace.
 
Clothe yourself with them,
to guard your life,
to keep you hiding.
Splash on all those clothes,
they are not real
they are not real
as some.
 
Someday we’ll die,
And then you’ll see that I am we.
Though you’ll run away I will be ready for the time—
 
You will come around.
You could still come around.
You might come around,
But you refuse to fly.
 
 


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