romanticism

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It is too easy to make affliction handsomeWhen it's lined with rhyme Traced by thin fingersThe numb glow of a dawn window.White drapes on skin and glassDark eyes torn with pain madeBeautiful
The moon fused in harmony only once every four years. Every other day it would appear to be doing so in dead set, but they knew better, behind perfection were only tears.  
Dear howling winds, you whistle through tiny cracks of our small, whithered home songs of your journey from further out miles. Take me with you as you pass by. Pick up my soul,
He touched her with a sensitive soul and carried her feelings with nothing but  an unshakable pledge He gazed at her for she was a  Goddess and with her, moments held greatness   
We’re in a world of media but no communication, Called the new generation, millennials, blind from our evaporated cell phone eyes, teeth broken from our coffee our vision plastered from heroin,
p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 120%; } In third grade, They handed me a poetry book And I found it terribly boring. I was a child of prose, reading stories of adventures And faraway lands.
In the direction of which my heart relies, I find my own warmths life support To embrace the endless swirling sky, my towers never err and fall short
I cherish the silence, hearing naught but the breeze As golden sunlight filters down through the autumn leaves. Peace fills my heart as I take in the comfort
What if on a night we have a dream Not the ones of make believe We capture nothing on this night Our darkness submerged in our night What if we could not make a sound We find it true we met the ground 
Stumbling & reckless, Shackled by mad musings of destruction.  Beware of the one whose cries Whisper fallacy.
Lookest in mine eyes and tell me it isn't she, but the one that stands before you, your    most beloved, me.  
O blindest me o forgotten one, thy eternal Re.    O achest me, take pity.    Mine eyes have been taken by thee.   
I can romanticize anything   Books, jobs, boys Toys! This list is endless.   I am a clear romantic at heart I can spin a tale and have that tale Be invigorating, special, fun, exciting
Mine forest, mine haven,Lovely thou art aflame.
  Oh beautiful Mother, with limbs branched outward, rustling the voice of your brother the wind.  
There is a notion that Crying is Romantic at night Alone into the bed sheets But the truth is It can hit at dawn Or in the afternoon In the shower In a crowded room In a big room
The evanescent of life,that glows, The dusk to dawn eyes; Though feels through flesh not awake but still sees, the cool blue-green grass under it.
I want to be one with the world I want to feel what it's like to be strong I want to be bright like the sun I want to see that light
She is the light In a world inhabited by Benedict Arnold’s and despair, She stands out from everyone For she is the light
Too reliant is humankind upon the salary. No longer can be seen the sincere modesty that once, prevailed. To lead a peaceful life without worries has long been forgotten. Toil on day after day to secure.
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