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Literature Text
My life,
Hardship, always for me.
Gratitude, always for another.
Restriction, always for me.
Freedom, always for another.
Obscurity, always for me.
Fame, always for another.
Envy, always for me.
Love, always for another.
Unsightliness, always for me.
Life, always for another.
Hardship, always for me.
Gratitude, always for another.
Restriction, always for me.
Freedom, always for another.
Obscurity, always for me.
Fame, always for another.
Envy, always for me.
Love, always for another.
Unsightliness, always for me.
Life, always for another.
Literature
Who I Am, What I Feel
Do you ever get the feeling,
Of existentialism?
I do,
And it's driven me insane since 2006.
Yes, I get nervous.
Yes, I get nostalgic.
Yes, I get scared.
No, I have not felt that surreal, genuine thing yet.
Not what you thought,
Much different.
Don't feel sorry,
Come over and help me. Unlike the others I told.
Unless you've been through what I've been in,
Don't you dare call me selfish,
Don't you dare make me feel ashamed.
You have no business with me.
Don't tell me,
You got it worse than me.
I'm sorry bout' that but,
I need help now.
I can't speak to them,
I get a little bit nervous but I will crumble in humility.
I can't go out,
It's t
Literature
Insanity
Should I keep fighting?
Or is it better
If I just let it go?
I'm not sure anymore
I can't take it anymore
The voices are driving me crazy
Maybe I should stop fighting
And let insanity take over
Maybe that way
Life will have a meaning
And maybe
I can find happiness
Literature
Murder your Poem
Make your poem suffer,
it needs to know how you feel.
And if it doesn't, your poem is ignorant.
Gouge the pen deep within it, until bloody ink stains through.
Write very hard
so your poem can feel your scars.
If you crinkle the corners,
good;
it needs to have broken tattered bones.
Feeling exhausted before your done.
Do not share or post your poem so soon,
for it needs to feel rejection.
Most important, before it dies.
Never..
Clean it's wounds, or tape its rips,
do no accept forgiveness..
As your poem dies, you'll be surprised.
Your dead withered poem,
has found
new life.
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Comments13
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Very relatable. Keep it up!