cynical

Learn more about other poetry terms

The wails of the damned cry out Drowning the fragile, the unspoken Bloodcurdling screeches echo throughout A symphony conducted by commotion Stealing the voice of the broken, a voice of doubt  
There is no denying it, she was first I imagine her next to you, your arm wrapped around her As it had once been wrapped around me Sometimes I wish I were a less kind soul
You'll have to forgive me for being stoic. But things won't work out, and I know it. When you offered me the trip of dreams, When my success you're quick to deem Imminent and sure,
it's funny how the people you love can be the ones you hate the most
Manmade stars seen through ash shadows blanketing this city made numb, the unmaking of man, thread unwinding from its spool too quick to remember.
My Ars Poetica: A Different Kind of Animal  Nothing turns a stomach               like the rancid aura that                              cradles the furry carcass of a life that once was.
A cynic will tell you that the world is on its way to disaster. He'll tell you that everyone is only in it for themselves.
I won’t always be your one and onlyThis love was always meant to expireI know this may come off a bit coldlyBut I know that someday we will tire   
Trust me, you don’t want to know The thought that just flew through my head A game of quid pro quo with the status quo This cache of nostalgia makes my dread drop dead I keep craving for resolution
Take me back upon a hill, an imagery time of inconsequential deals, where love is blind, and hate is enforced, and all you can think of is substantial divorce. Oh the agony, the agony of time
I think about you everyday.
I'm a tiny little fish In a great big pond  And before you fucking know it, I'm up and gone.   So many memories, Not many of them good. This place was such a joke, Now I'm off
PD
(My creative writing teacher asked us what our dream job was when we were kids. This was mine.)
There are these thoughts that enter the realm of my mind It’s a dark place, my mind. But somehow it is always en-lightened by the most sorrowful notion.
Subscribe to cynical