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Rated: E · Poetry · Nonsense · #2046062
Brief Description
the old feels new
the window view
showing the same
Trees Hills Imagery Nights Grass
though this picture may dull
it does not do me wrong

Idle hands are the devils tool
Well just how sure are you

hauntings no longer bring fear
lamentations cease to move
I know now
the goal
and with it
the role
the fatal threat now bores
and fiery roars find the quiet
so make the threat the promise
I so miss that itch
on the back of my skull
because this continuing
was not worth my seeking
so now I place myself in this chair

Casted away countless opinions
Forgot second guessing doubts
You were the one who approached me
Telling of a tale not told

the height of eagerness
confronting outcasts
not hiding blackness
now hollowed out
now silent
now unmoving
now I am done
In my opened state of mind
You only gave one option
but you surely
did not forget
what she told me once
on the ocean of grass
Unjustified bastard you make the claim
Time is yours, and yours to play
and all you need to win is
watch
My thrashing, twisting, slowly exhausting
efforts
For time is yours, and yours alone
I do not doubt

so rip into my soul
degrade my actions
bully the subtlest intent
misread purposefully
drag me through the dirt
grind my bones on stone
throw away my attempts
I
Don't
Care
for I can sit in a damned perfect chair
knowing that I cannot outlast you
but I can last the nothingness
watching the clock turn away
Every
Damn
Day

And if there is found a way
to force my hand as you see
I pity that first demon
who dares confront me
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