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Literature Text
They can drown you,
Renown you,
Even take down you.
They can break you,
Make you,
Even forsake you.
They can be unfair,
Make you swear,
And leave you bare.
But you can do nothing,
So you go through the aching,
The hurting.
And maybe their doting won't be crippling.
Renown you,
Even take down you.
They can break you,
Make you,
Even forsake you.
They can be unfair,
Make you swear,
And leave you bare.
But you can do nothing,
So you go through the aching,
The hurting.
And maybe their doting won't be crippling.
Literature
Artistry
It was almost perfect. One or two more strokes were all that it would take, and as he finished preparing, the young King sighed with contentment and fatigue. He'd been at it for almost 12 hours this time, and his muscles were straining in protest, but he knew in his bones that it was worth it. Art, after all, was a skill that took time to master, and the King was determined to cultivate it in himself until he was the best in all the lands.
He stretched, his bones crackling along his spine and arms, then grasped the picture box provided by his Mage. "Hold still," he admonished his squirming models before giving the box its appropriate command
Literature
The Rememberers
The apple core glared back at them, bruised
and ill-tempered, as they sorted
the forgotten memories in Airport Lounge.
The bell tower was combed up and down,
but it was the river that hid the memories’
rememberers and carried them away.
Mouldy tomatoes were organized by
degree of destruction, and the lasagna
was read like an open book.
“I bound my taste buds to the avocado’s
flesh, willing them to be one.”
“I return every day to mourn
the trampled, muddy grass.”
“I walked softly to the edge
of the empty bandshell and
hummed a lullaby for the sleeping,
bare-limbed trees.”
“I taped
Literature
Bruises you Bestow
I've drank my weight in wine,
Blood red and staining my lips.
Your flesh was mine to dine.
Mouth on mine as my digit dips.
The heavy heat and hot breath,
The weight of a palm on my neck.
You're my nicotine and my meth,
And I'm there to worship and wreck.
You said, "You're body is but a vessel,
A vessel to the soul that I so adore."
The words made me slick and swell,
But my pride was bruised and sore.
Then I wake and you're long gone,
With your signature lines on my back.
The sheets were ruffled and drawn,
And the door opened just a crack.
The sheep beneath the wolf, he said,
How do you degrade my dignity so.
Gone from a king to a slut in
Suggested Collections
Day thirty four, theme thirty three.
Shitty poems are shitty.
Shitty poems are shitty.
© 2015 - 2024 Kaniahlies
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