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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Music · #1760973
short poems about life and experiences, continued from book I
Last Remarks from the Highest Tower, Pt. 2:

We shouted at the naysayers
For their doubts
We ran against the masses
On a premonition

So taketh thouself to the highest tower
And scream what you're thinking
It could be anything

Problems don't exist
If no one ever knows
Of them

I'm Not That Malleable?!:

Metals
Are an interesting proposition
Some are versatile
Conductors of energy
Others weak, like clay

Molded easily into shapes
Impossible by the IM forces
Which surround them,
The sea of negatives
Forcibly band-aiding them together

Copper, Cu
Is very ductile,
Drawn into thin strips of wire
And become electric
On the sounds of a guitar

Sodium, Na
Is very explosive,
Outside of containers,
Guarding it from air
Never to know the truth

Magnesium, Mg
Is very malleable,
Pounded into sheets
Beat up like an abused child
Just wanting to be loved

Are we metals?
It certainly makes for
An interesting proposition
I know, however, that
I'm not that malleable

See Yourself:

If just once
I could see myself
As I am
Not as I seem to be

Feel the earth
And dig it up
With a shovel;
A death drive, bring out the best in us

See yourself
For what you're worth
Boys are a dime a dozen
Haven't figured you out yet

Lies and their lying friends
Compulsiveness
That's what I am
But I haven't figured you out yet

I Do Believe I Just Interdicted, My B.. Oh, It's You Two. Now I'm Glad:

So fucking happy

Lies

:/ yeah ur right

Oh

So what're you up to

Hw

True. As always *sigh*

Mmhmmm

I still have questions

Ok..
What is it
?

(Everything I say is royal ocean
Doesn't mean I don't bullshit)

Words of Wisdom:

Call out
Curse and cuss and squirm
To make them realize
Why

Reach out
Fight and break and turn
To make them see what
You've learned

The Crowded, Desolate Hallway:

The place we see everyday
Of the week anyways
Becomes crowded,
Desolate even

Like an old abandoned home
Waiting for the wrecking
But it never comes

The corners decorated with mirrors
The walls plastered with art
To make it seem like a home;
Far from it

A strain for the faint of heart,
Lessons are learned
Battles are fought
In the crowded, desolate hallway

I End on This:

In the end
It doesn't really matter
What were we fighting for?
Can't remember

The sounds and sights
Of the world, breaking apart

But take solace in the fact
Our heist,
At least right now
Lives on

I won't be careful
Can't say much about you

I'll end on this;
A high note
For the trumpeter
Who toots his own horn
Once in a lifetime

- Many thanks to Minus the Bear, Dance Gavin Dance, and Luke
© Copyright 2011 redsn0w345 (rkm345 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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