At The Very Most

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Again, a new one (: Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Fate x

Submitted: January 19, 2010

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Submitted: January 19, 2010

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Don't press your thoughts to mine and pretend they are the same

Don't wind me up and laugh when I cry, and confess 'It's just a game'

Under your bitter and harsh visage, there is nothing at all

No kind words, no bath of creed, no secret stall


Where one can buy the little things, the pleasures of our everyday

Lives,and people, that never stay the same, or simply never stay

Don't talk to me as though  with every word I will agree

When there is an us involved it means only you, not me


Don't beg for something that you know will soon run cold

I walk home alone, with the weight on my shoulders, so old

And by dawn, I gently I cry myself into a sorry sleep

With a heart so dim, a stand so weak, I weep, the scars are deep


No real ones, no, of course, pain inflicts only more pain

The ones embedded beneath the flesh, beneath the grain

That I sense so near to me, someone so far

When truly, I dont even know who you are


Don't dream of me tonight in your restless sleep

I wont ever give you that kind of fate to keep

Don't assume that I will give in to the lonely ghost

Of something that will never be, a game, at the very most.



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