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Guide, Hide and Guard meHowever far and however near the world may seem,
It is nothing for us it is just a dream.
I cry for you now as I scream your pain.
I cry and scream until nothing remains.
As I look up to the skies, tears blurring my sight,
The lights glisten at me in the night.
But how can I see the light in this cavern of shame
Can you fill this void that still remains?
I lust for a shadow to keep me warm
and hold me close until the morn.
Not someone who uses me, and feeds me hope
only to release me all alone.
They use and abuse while alone I stand.
Whatever you are above the world of man:
send me a miracle with which to abide,
send me an angel with whom I can hide.
Help me cope with the torture that consumes me
let a light shine so I can finally see.
Let you light my way through the dark and cold
Help me break from this mould.
This mould that captivates what I should be,
help the truth to set me free.
Boken but CompletedVerse 1:
Pain inside it hurts me so, but what youve done, youll never know. As you fall away into your own world, you leave me here while mine unfurls. I cant feel the world right now; it just feels too hard somehow. Cant I just leave you be?
Why do I feel what I do (am I lost without you?) why cant I just see (why do you mean so much to me) what cant I just accept (that you are gone) but although you are still there (you will never be there for me).
In your arms I felt safe, although I knew it couldnt last, those promises you made me and the love that I felt has past. A hole in your heart you say; will be left when I go away. But that hole isnt full when I'm here, not by me anyway, I have been replaced.
And though my vision is clear, the tears still haze me up sometimes, but as I try to wipe them away, I cant wipe you from my mind
nomatter what they say...I look into the mirror and stare at my empty face,
The face hidden with cosmetics, plastered with disgrace
I turn away shyly, and instead look at what I used to be.
Look at the photos, the memories of what in the mirror I did see,
A cute little girl with freckles and a smile.
When gradually, I searched mile after mile
To find my true self, not locked up behind door after door
Of my phoney smiles that hurt more and more.
Then day after day it would continue with no end,
While inside I was searching for a way not to pretend
That Everything is great! and Everything is cool.
While I lay in my bed, dreading the next day of school.
Ha Ha! Is what they cried, pointing at me with glee.
Dont you wish that you were cool enough to play with me?
I was in the school two years until they asked me to play,
The last week of fifth class they asked me if I may,
I looked at them so happily, got up from the dusty ground
And became a normal child, inste
Facade with squiggle on the CI walk towards the mirror every morning, and look at the empty reflection staring back. The reflection that has stolen my core and in return asks: Why should I put all my trust into a figment of my imagination, the outer shell of my spiritual being? Inside my true self lurks, waiting to be found waiting for the creature I pretend to be, to disintegrate from the web of lies strangling it. Waiting to be found, waiting to be freed. I stand before you a new soul. Not the soul that was hidden by make-up, hair-dye, clothes and a smile, but the soul that remains, my true self, lost only in the harsh realities that my shell was trying to protect me from. It was there for a reason and now I am exposed and vulnerable to the world that is waiting to attack. Why did I break free? What did I have to lose by staying hidden? What was stopping the façade from covering my self that was not ready to emerge? I now am a butterfly without wings, a heart with no rhythm, a destiny with no purpose.
DementorsToday and forever my soul flies among the shadows of death. Like a lonesome stranger it flies like a featureless phantom in the forgotten realm. Do you wish to join it in its endless cry? Feed it mercy and compassion, unravel this terrible curse. Disentangle the blood clotted bandage that is torn tightly around the wound of loneliness. And remove the thorn that lies deep within. Like a chasm that has been carved within an empty world, forgotten as the wind that surrounds it. Do you feel the wind within you? These winds that chill your bones on a summers day that no one else can see nor feel, but you. Let the ice melt among the graves of our foes to reveal scorching sun and let our captors fall among the rivers of blood.
Brooklyn NightThe sound of the gunshot echoed in her ears as she ran from the hotel. She knew her life would never be the same. She clutched tightly onto the camera, which bore the only evidence of the murder. As she turned the corner, she slowed down and collapsed to the floor, weeping bitterly. It had been the best night of her life until that door opened and that solitary blast arrived. He died instantly. Nathan had been the only man that Gemma had ever truly loved. And now he was gone. She swore revenge on the person who committed the atrocity.
She slowly got up; looking around her, trying to find shelter from the cold, wet night. Gemma searched the deserted Chicago streets until she found a little late night diner. She stumbled in and sat down at the closest available chair. An elderly waitress came up to her.
Whatll it be, love? Sa bit late for a young girl like yrself to be out n bout. Specially, on such a wet nigh. Dearie me, yr soaked to da sk
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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