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When I'm gone, my darling...When I'm gone my darling,
Would you still turn to stretch out your hand to reach me, at nights?
Would you still swap blankets, as we did because mine smells better?
Would you sigh a little, when the breakfast is set just for one, not two?
Would you stand beneath the stars and imagine me there, beside you?
Would you hear my whispers in the breeze that softly pass you by, calling?
Would you get drenched in the rain, just to relieve 'those' times, past?
Would you walk down the street, and see me standing there smiling back?
Would you still pen our names on every book you buy, and two red hearts?
Would you still whistle the same tunes each morning, that I so loved?
When I'm gone my darling,
Would you be as lonely without me, as I am up here without you?
BeautyBeauty rose out of that silent sea,
Her eyes were tepid with wild thunder,
And then she turned and looked at me.
Me; a meagre man who knew no lady fair,
Nor one of care as she snaps my heart asunder.
Beauty flew up to that sinister sky,
Her lips were dark with mad desire,
And then she turned and started to cry.
Cry; a crude curse who knew no mortal smile,
Nor one so vile as she scars my aura in fire.
Beauty stood up on that scarlet skin,
Her locks were rouge with quiet rain,
And then she turned and walked on sin.
Sin; a sordid spirit who knew no lover true,
Nor one in clue as she saves me from my pain.
It's worth it, it gets betterI know how it feels to be lost in an endless abyss
To want nothing more than to feel deaths cold kiss
When further into darkness you continue to descend
You think death is the only way for the pain to end
When your friends are gone and your heart is broken
And your love is something that you must keep unspoken
When you think your life is destined to be full of hurt
And it leads to opening up being something that you avert
You feel like it is wearing you down, but it makes you stronger
You find the strength to continue for just that little bit longer
Many people don't say anything and just wonder how we cope
Sometimes it's as simple as clinging to that little bit of hope
It sounds cliché, but at the edge of the darkness there is a light
It is the spark of happiness and hope that you have to ignite
It is something that you have to do to be all that you can be
It's something that can fix your heart when it's only debris
It can help you to leave your haunting demons in your past
My Painting of YouI painted you today.
Rolled up the paper,
and carried you in hand.
Gave you to a girl,
with your eyes,
and chestnuts in her hair,
Made her smile,
seeing butterflies in a field,
but she gave you back,
when she saw
they are going in the sunset.
I put you on
my dreaming wall,
to be my last glimpse,
of my world
before I remember
you're only a painting.
My Revelation (Poem)
I could have sworn that you and I were meant to be
The hardest truth was shown to eyes that refused to see
My peace was gone, a broken heart and tears that never ceased
This is all that I was, all that was left of me
The countdown to my self destruction had been initiated
Piece by piece I broke apart as I became more devastated
If only from the Lord I had not deviated
This series of catastrophic events could have been evaded
Lesson learned and I've now organized my priorities
Jesus has risen to the top and no longer a minority
Love and forgiveness was His gift to me
I can now walk peacefully as one of the redeemed
The nightmares no longer haunt nor steal my peace
Hope and faith is now the air I breath
God's word is the food that I seek
For when I follow God first,
all else will be added on and given unto me
Mark 4:12 (NKJV)
so that Seeing they may see and not perceive, And hearing they may hear and not understand; Lest they should turn, And their sins be forgiven them.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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