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Literature Text
There is something close to everyones' heart,
and everyday it's being tested....
and beaten....
but we still cling to that one thing
because that's what we have always had.
May it be something as small as...
a stuffed animal,
to as large as your first real drawing,
you have kept it close to your heart,
because you know it means more.
There is always something there,
and when people share what it is,
it's like letting someone see you naked,
and you feel as small as a child,
but you do it anyway...
and not because you have to,
but because you want to.
For what is a human without other humans,
nothing but the expanse of loneliness,
that sits in their heart,
and slowly turns it into ice,
like bitter old hags who only let cats see the goodness still left.
The human touch is something to treasure,
and something one should never let go,
and when you find what is close to your heart,
you should share it,
even if... it... and your heart get's broken.
and everyday it's being tested....
and beaten....
but we still cling to that one thing
because that's what we have always had.
May it be something as small as...
a stuffed animal,
to as large as your first real drawing,
you have kept it close to your heart,
because you know it means more.
There is always something there,
and when people share what it is,
it's like letting someone see you naked,
and you feel as small as a child,
but you do it anyway...
and not because you have to,
but because you want to.
For what is a human without other humans,
nothing but the expanse of loneliness,
that sits in their heart,
and slowly turns it into ice,
like bitter old hags who only let cats see the goodness still left.
The human touch is something to treasure,
and something one should never let go,
and when you find what is close to your heart,
you should share it,
even if... it... and your heart get's broken.
Literature
Prepared
I cried until my eyes dried out and the world became black.
I bled until my heart stopped beating and my skin went cold.
I loathed until my soul collapsed and my mind grew dark.
This was when my demons handed me a mask of the face I used to wear and whispered
Go on. Life can't hurt you anymore.
Literature
Bullying - Suicide
Every cruel word you say kills.
Literature
Darkness
The pitter-patter of raindrops on cobblestones
when walking alone, engrossed in your memories,
your thoughts condescend behind you like a
narcissistic parent.
Vision changes, perspectives are skewed
downwards. A skeptical outlook becomes
a recording in your mind; when does it stop?
How do I get to this moment? Where did
I fucked up?
A flash of gunpowder, the mind lights up like
for the one instant where you felt hope. You
had an answer, but the voices keep coming;
smothering, snuffing; the fire is gone
and I'm suffering in silence.
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Comments55
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Wow, very nice and very true.