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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1849639
Well, here goes another, please read it and review it, cause I need help!
Two steps away from death barely one away from the flavor.
The one tasting like 32 different colors of sky.

Six steps closer to maybe giving up.
Forgiving the captions stamped into
my eight degrees of being broken.
Letting it go, freezing over the crooked path,
maybe I'll breathe my last breath somewhat happy.

78 feelings portrayed underneath blue eyes.
One second is all it takes.
6168 days still the same old fears.

881 weeks to suffer every penalty for doing all we were told.

Skin crippling nostalgia captures the light on a dark black stage.
Standing alone, blinded there's no voice inside.
Can't break open the bottles. Scars never seemed so overrated.
Living never seemed lower then loving. Until now.

Til I was told "You're bad". Until they turned.

Now matter how loud I scream,
how insufferable it feels,
how crazy I go, how hard I pound,
needless to say seconds tick by when begging isn't even shameful, still unheard. Can't be seen.
Like being buried, no one ever happens to notice until it's too late.

Cruel weeks pull- undress every page.Faith was broken.
Unlucky muttered the fool. Shaking his head, even turned his back.

Every name, every page, scribbled through.
Leaving holes sometimes.
Address book full, torn and ripped.
Smudged pages, numberless names. I was out of quarters anyway.
Can't even lie to myself anymore.

Drum beats I'll move to.
Sacred is you heart when it needs saving.
Deceptive it becomes when pain never existed.

Not now.

Safe and warm.

Out of faith you'll stand useless.
Webster got promise wrong. Cause I thought it meant keeping your word.
Carrying it through.

Same old feeling, never gets dragged away. Only the good things pierced.

One step away from death. 3,000 from hope.
The only hope I knew tasted sorrowful, bitter, fattening.
Deadly. poisened. Cold.

Burning cheekbones when I call him to the stand, and he never showed.
I'm really trying this time.

The jury stands, God's of judgement.
God's of chess pawns, of discontinued life.
Somehow became only a fame.
A bubble, unable to withstand knives. Delicate, so beautiful when you look at it.
Suffocating, silly, wobbly, Popped. Child's toy.

Nothing more than another illogical percentage.
Another number in your textbook. A closing one.
Scribbled and old.

Everything is replaced.
Eveyone moves on, to other worlds, or just with the times.

Moving on away from me. Tangled here, empty.
Shredding, still feeling. It never left.
Looking dead, feeling dead. Alone, I feel so alone and it's never burned this bad.

But I'm so alive, So SO alive.
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