You Bastard.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Yet another angry poem for someone I was once close to. I'm not bitter, I swear! :)

Submitted: October 07, 2009

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Submitted: October 07, 2009



You Bastard.

The doors are all open,

the planet spinning at my fingertips, everything available to me.

I have a constant demeanor of streaming sunshine.

Fate can never be wrong.

Your touch is needed,

to keep me walking on the streets of sanity.

Once upon a fine day,

our fingers fit together and the touch of communication belonged to us.

Like the invisibility of the streaming wind,

a dissapearence occured.

We've gone down to one word.

A word considered bland.

Absolutely no evidence of communication flowing between former flowing fingers.

Put my fingers on a window seal and close it.

See the throbbing fingers.

Would the sight make you cry?

I knew what to say when you came into my line of vision.

My tounge would send itself on a world class ticket to love, life and communication.

If I were to look out into the night sky, I would come into contact with fallen stars.

They may or may not hold the hand of fate.

Does it or doesn't it mean you hold anymore secrets?

You Bastard,

fall into the dirt.

Where you belong.

Dirt pollutes the mind.

You have a mind.

A mind filled with mud.

You Bastard.


Smile until I am convinced.

Smile until you believe.

You Bastard.




You had me regress into old memories.

They made my home into a fog.

Thank you.

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