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SympathyI never asked for your sympathy,
Never wanted you to cry tears
That belonged to me.
Never wanted you to sleep
In the darkened meadow
Writing poetry under the willows.
I never asked for your words,
Never wanted you to loose yourself
In the red-covered English dictionary.
Never wanted you to fly away
To a place where snow falls up
And waterfalls hang like tapestries.
I never asked for your scorn,
Never wanted your rough voice
Stained with blood and smoke.
Never wanted you to know
The secrets about me
I had kept hidden for years.
I never asked for your dying breath,
Never wanted you to return
To the rolling hills and ocean blue.
Never wanted you to regret the lies
Or anything else for that matter
Or the sympathies of seasons changed.
A FarewellGoodbye to you who writes,
Who graces the world with a song,
The rhythm of poetry,
A slumbering dove on the lake,
A requiem of white roses.
Goodbye to you who changes,
Who rewrites the broken,
The unreeled record,
A key that will not fit,
A haiku without feeling.
Goodbye to you who thinks,
Who believes in a better place,
The world seen through imagination,
A silk tie, unfurling,
A new day on the horizon.
One More DayIf tomorrow were to cease to exist,
I would go on living just one day more,
One more day to say goodbye.
I imagine the world overgrown,
A jungle, a field of wheat grass,
Rising up to mid calf.
This is the tomorrow,
The world we will never see,
The lost land where everything has gone dark.
And I ask you one favor,
To stay one day more,
To wade in the creek with me.
To stay just one day more,
And lay out under the night sky,
Number the fireflies as if they were stars.
One more day,
To pick berries in the bushes,
Speak broken and forbidden words.
And in a moment we will be no more,
Not forgotten, simply vanished,
Becoming a part of the echoing hills.
One more day to say goodbye,
One more moment to fix all I have destroyed,
One more second to save a life.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More