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Mon, 07/18/2016 - 23:26 -- spyrkle

Location

Plymouth Meeting
3 Karen Road
United States
41° 26' 10.5828" N, 73° 25' 50.286" W

It’s all so cold

lost and lonely, veiled by frost-

be quiet, I’m told

never speak up, no cost

never any loss-

untouched in gold gleaming

a jewel tossed.

Metal frame, seeming

empty as the world, yet-

inside burns a flame.

What is love like, never met?

Emotions I can’t name

fill a shell-

soft and weak, ready to die.

For death chimes a bell,

with unending tolls it cries.

White earth, cloudy sky-

is there any difference or not?

Unity and identity are lies.

Dreams and reality are bought.

No stability, no certainty, no truth-

questions and no words,

no falsities to soothe.

If I were a bird…

I would be dead, then-

isn’t murder fun?

Pain is to be shared ‘tween men

and all they see beneath the silent sun.

Sound is intangible, pure-

easiest to corrupt and warp.

A conniving lure

to catch a fat, dumb carp.

Nothing to nothing, pain to pain-

anything left?

What is madness to the sane?

I’ll sue for all the theft.

But they’re all wrong-

nothing isn’t now.

I’ve lived too long.

Soon, it’ll be over, I vow.

Please? Make it stop.

I can’t feel, except I can.

I’m repeating myself now.

Spinning in circles,

spinning in circles.

What did I say?

I can’t understand it.

Black against white-

end

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
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