You Don’t Think You’re Beautiful

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You don’t think you’re beautiful
Because of the pain you feel inside
Existence finds itself with a teetering lull
The path to happiness merely not identified

But you need to write your own dreams
Never settle for what others might demand
Seek out adventure & self-discovery
Find the surprising beauty of the unplanned

There Are Many Fancy Writers

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There are many fancy writers

Those who are great, they’ve decided

Elegant illustrations & plunging necklines

But hubris is often one-sided

There are many arrogant writers

Quick with the wit they’ve decried

Moans of pain suited to their fame

Loving with one eye open it’s often implied

Unfolding Broken Dreams

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Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know

But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions

How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain

thinking nostalgic thoughts

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thinking nostalgic thoughts
on an empty stomach
rediscovering grunge tunes
stuck at home in a pandemic
remembering the pain of high school
couldn’t fit in anywhere
reliving dark moments
where it could’ve ended
remembering lost loves
& how warm they made you feel
but you know it wasn’t real
leaving you cold & alone
abandoned until life truly began.

Ill Reputed Minstrel & Her Fancy Dolls

Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown

Civil Disobedience

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Civil disobedience
Marching against their sullen grain
Public executions of our citizens
The ones whom systematically resemble our pain

Exhibitions of our worst character traits
The trembling hands with transcribed blood
Outside of the panoramic eye
Yet all the same, caught in the seismic flood

A taciturn refusal to simply exist
Check your feed for what revolutionaries say
Bold proclamations & campaign slogans
But eventually the media hype fades away

Some other crime or scandal to catch your eye
Lights, cameras & we all return to normal instead
Forgetting those who can’t whore for Zuckerberg
But the people still live with a price on their head

Calico Woman Came Calling To Me

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Calico woman came calling to me
Hushed words within a poised stance
Lingering, but pale stars falling
Returned with dislocated underpants
Thinning with ulterior motives
Never forgot her hocus-pocus
An underlying pain feeding through
Life left when love slips from focus

I’m Doing My Best

 

I’m doing my best, can’t you see
Amidst the horrors of our modern day
The ghost stories rising in the mind
The times when you’re in your own way
You grab at your head in pain
The frustration of structured expectation
Pressures of their unintended demands
Prompting proclamations of demarcation

Floating Through The World

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Floating through the world

Soaking up life like a sponge

Trying hard to wipe away pain

To rid yourself of this grunge

Each night another debacle

Colorful dusk marking time set

Building your wall before alarm

Shredded by demons not yet met

Perfection Laid Out On Satin Sheets

Perfection laid out on satin sheets
Beauty dripping away piece by piece
Every dream slipped right through
Life & loss masked by laughing creases
He said you were everything he desired
Burning deep in his soul, but you refused
Moving too fast to stop & notice him
Yet you cry foul, saying you were abused
The sun rises no matter who is pained
Recall broken hearts when you’re the cause
Plump out your pretty pink lips
In the quiet of night, please retract your claws
Calm thyself, you know your own heart
Time to realize you’re the fatal flaw

I’m Tired Of Being So Dry

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I’m tired of being so dry
In need of an outlet to release my brain
Creativity gone; leaving me stagnant
Building into a wreck of anxiety & pain
My thoughts stunted by vapid feelings
Finding myself too tense, filled with stress
Needing to drink from restorative waters
Like those I found under her dress

This Is Life.

This is life. This is reality.
When the pretty words drip away
When the party’s over
You’ve still got to wake & face the day
Digital lovers lavish heaps of praise
Complimenting you on your magnificent blog
While you neglect the physical world
Always remember that pain & loneliness are analog

Ernest Hemingway

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“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”

Ernest Hemingway, Men Without Women