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Literature Text
Take me, rape me, and then break me
Are you the one who's been sent to Save me from myself?
You can't stop this inner decay,
I've been on a head trip since last december or may?
I can't remember.
But it's ok, because you are here
My godsent angel come to save me from myself.
Who am i?
I am whatever you want me to be,
I'm all out of ideas...a dead and dried up tree.
Who am i?
Well, who are you?
My little godsent angel come to split me into two?
The good and the bad have never gotten along
but they are all i have, I am the worse and the wrong
And the jester that makes you laugh.
But I would advice you to hide your toungue before i cut it in half.
Are you the one who's been sent to Save me from myself?
You can't stop this inner decay,
I've been on a head trip since last december or may?
I can't remember.
But it's ok, because you are here
My godsent angel come to save me from myself.
Who am i?
I am whatever you want me to be,
I'm all out of ideas...a dead and dried up tree.
Who am i?
Well, who are you?
My little godsent angel come to split me into two?
The good and the bad have never gotten along
but they are all i have, I am the worse and the wrong
And the jester that makes you laugh.
But I would advice you to hide your toungue before i cut it in half.
Literature
In Reverse
13.
Jesus flew over the city today.
He cast a dark shadow upon our bleak and childish faces
and the now dark towers that surround us in the midst of this town.
I usually never notice his presence;
the yearly autumn rush mixed with the lingering summer sun overpowers him, fixing my focus to inhaling as much of those last sweet August scents as possible, knowing that as soon as we let go of them, we'll forget what they feel like
for twelve agonizing months. I know it should never be like that.
Such trivial things overpowering the shadow of God's son,
his breath lost in the smell of honeysuckle, his shadow in the early September sun
Literature
Truths And Lies
I entertwined the lies and the truths
Until I was blinded by them.
It became so hazy that I
Believed the lies and disbelieved the truths.
Literature
Makeshift Symphony
He tied piano strings to his heart,
so that every time it beat
it didn't sound so empty inside.
But the music in his heart
couldnt permeate the hollow air
as the metronome kept time for the clock.
One, two. One, two.
Reedy notes plummeted from his lips as
he made me pluck out Tchaikovsky and Bach
when all I wanted to play was twinkletwinklelittlestar.
"I'm just a little girl."
My fingers tripped and stumbled
and I know that I could never play
as well as he needed me to;
I could never keep his notes
from slipping off the page.
White and black sideswiped my fingers,
as I struck one chord too many.
"I've always wanted to
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Are you my little godsent angel?
© 2009 - 2024 Jaime-kendrick
Comments6
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The ending truly makes this poem more intriguing.