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Literature Text
Evil men have no songs.
Then how can you speak such poetic words and hum light tunes that carry with the wind?
I can see into the black abyss of your soul, down to the ligaments of your very existence and the shadows of your mind.
Your melodies burn my eardrums until I can't hear anymore.
Devious notes that emit obscure shadows.
But you can switch and twist and shape the songs you sing, until they are lighter than light, fooling me.
I thought evil men have no songs.
You are a different kind of evil.
One yet to be recorded.
You empty your thoughts like poison into innocent peoples minds, until sobs rack their bodies with lunacy.
You're a disease.
Spreading like wildfire throughout a healthy brain, leaving a trail of decomposed thoughts and theories.
I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy
Then how can you speak such poetic words and hum light tunes that carry with the wind?
I can see into the black abyss of your soul, down to the ligaments of your very existence and the shadows of your mind.
Your melodies burn my eardrums until I can't hear anymore.
Devious notes that emit obscure shadows.
But you can switch and twist and shape the songs you sing, until they are lighter than light, fooling me.
I thought evil men have no songs.
You are a different kind of evil.
One yet to be recorded.
You empty your thoughts like poison into innocent peoples minds, until sobs rack their bodies with lunacy.
You're a disease.
Spreading like wildfire throughout a healthy brain, leaving a trail of decomposed thoughts and theories.
I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy
Literature
Black Eyes and Butterfly Wings
I sewed feathers
to my corset's back strings,
but I don't think it's enough to fly.
And the troll under the bridge
is singing me lullabies
but he's still a troll.
I think.
And the chalk-drawn owl
with the heart-shaped face
keeps exhaling smoke
and retching,
but I can't quite reach him.
I don't understand.
The marionette tightened
my corset,
so I guess that means
its strings are puppeteer strings.
Am I then a puppet?
When I look in the mirror
do I get confused by the backwards world
or high with the trippiness
or do I hiccup and move on?
When I fall
do I fall break or
catch myself with my skull,
bring my elbows smashi
Literature
stars.
laying at night, under the stars, i sigh
the memories whisper, as the cars pass by
i dream of my love and the days that have passed
those wonderful days that just didn't last
i sit and remember the things that once were
the things that are over, now just a blur
the stars drown out the pain that i feel
those pains in my heart were once quite real
but they go away as the stars shine on my face
as i close my eyes, my problems erase
those dazzling stars hanging up in the sky
tell me to keep my head held high
for no matter what troubles may come in sight
the stars will be there every night
Literature
Behind Those Eyes
Her pretty face
And her gleaming smile
Behind those eyes
A lingering cry
A soul screaming
A heart tired of beating
But I can do nothing
I just watch her make
Her same mistakes
I just watch her grieve and
Be wounded again and again
Her fragile body
That glides and sways
Behind those eyes
Shadows stay
But I can do nothing
I just watch her try
to hide her tears dry;
I just watch her
die
With open eyes.
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012. Insanity
#100ThemeChallenge
"Evil men have no songs." Friedrich Nietzche
MY GALLERY | MY STAMPS | MY 100 THEME CHALLENGE | FORMSPRING
#100ThemeChallenge
"Evil men have no songs." Friedrich Nietzche
MY GALLERY | MY STAMPS | MY 100 THEME CHALLENGE | FORMSPRING
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Comments9
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Heh, I love it. Very powerful and convicting, yet somehow empowering, if that makes any sense. Anyway great job. Certainly makes an impression.