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Literature Text
Hope has returned, only to flicker out.
Gone before our eyes, almost touching it.
Our hand reaching, it destroyed to much.
The flames of hope are dark, we can't see.
No light in our eyes, guiding our path.
The journey will be in shadows again.
Whisper in your hands, before it escapes.
No words for your ears, hope is gone.
The light has slowly flickered out.
Our eyes are deaf, our ears are blind.
We can't see what's left behind.
Don't know what's in our front.
The flames of hope have flickered out.
We are left behind deaf and blind.
Yet we journey on, just to stay strong.
Gone before our eyes, almost touching it.
Our hand reaching, it destroyed to much.
The flames of hope are dark, we can't see.
No light in our eyes, guiding our path.
The journey will be in shadows again.
Whisper in your hands, before it escapes.
No words for your ears, hope is gone.
The light has slowly flickered out.
Our eyes are deaf, our ears are blind.
We can't see what's left behind.
Don't know what's in our front.
The flames of hope have flickered out.
We are left behind deaf and blind.
Yet we journey on, just to stay strong.
Literature
Stop
Leave me alone, please just do so
Stop being there
It is not like you really cared
You said I will be alone again
So let me be that
It has never stopped you before right
You used me the whole time
Like I was nothing
Why are you suddenly acting
Like you give two cents
about me now
"I did care for you."
Cut the crap
I no longer want to hear it.
Just stop, just stop please.
Literature
Amends
They tell me you're dying,
when you're not etching poetry
into glass.
Words as fragile as the surface they're written on,
not nearly as transparent, though.
Dotted between the lines like Morse-code,
concealed in true poetic verse.
If you want to know a poet,
just fall and one will rise.
The ink flows deep within the lines,
we just have to die to find it.
I see your plead.
They tell me I should make amends,
only the forgiveness you seek
doesn't come from me.
That boy is gone,
and with him
any debt you owed.
Still if it helps ease your passing
I'll say the words.
Like writing a hot check;
it'll get you by for a minute,
but in th
Literature
Look what he's done to you
Look what he's done to you,
Not at all fair to your little heart,
He took the heart of a little girl and smashed it.
Now nothing seems true,
You can't find a new start,
Nothing seems right, nothing seems to fit.
Hear me as I say you are more than this,
You can be more than he made you feel,
Your heart can beat once more.
There's nothing you should miss,
Because of the things he made you think were real,
His pleasure isn't what you were made for.
You can hear the music but can't sing,
The words you can't seem to say,
You can change it all.
You don't have to remain this broken thing,
The thing he made you be this day,
When all your world did
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Honestly, who can tell where my mind got this from?
Would somebody be able too to say to which theme this belongs? I have no idea, this poem has got me flabbergasted.
Would somebody be able too to say to which theme this belongs? I have no idea, this poem has got me flabbergasted.
© 2012 - 2024 Wiliart
Comments19
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Your muse seems to enjoy being mysterious and dark. An excellent work of literature, my friend.