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Literature Text
Don't let the lights scare you my little one
you are not alone on the cracked pavement
observing the well-off pass without a second thought
there are others who walk the same path
transients, the lonely, and wolves in sheep clothing
so watch where you are walking
and avoid falling through the cracks.
you are not alone on the cracked pavement
observing the well-off pass without a second thought
there are others who walk the same path
transients, the lonely, and wolves in sheep clothing
so watch where you are walking
and avoid falling through the cracks.
Literature
Who I Am, What I Feel
Do you ever get the feeling,
Of existentialism?
I do,
And it's driven me insane since 2006.
Yes, I get nervous.
Yes, I get nostalgic.
Yes, I get scared.
No, I have not felt that surreal, genuine thing yet.
Not what you thought,
Much different.
Don't feel sorry,
Come over and help me. Unlike the others I told.
Unless you've been through what I've been in,
Don't you dare call me selfish,
Don't you dare make me feel ashamed.
You have no business with me.
Don't tell me,
You got it worse than me.
I'm sorry bout' that but,
I need help now.
I can't speak to them,
I get a little bit nervous but I will crumble in humility.
I can't go out,
It's t
Literature
Metus
One flat night, the wind stilled itself like a breath held in the worst kind of anticipation; the moment when you realize, too late, that everything has gone wrong with every carefully laid plan. Every alibi come to naught in the face of something far too dark to even be given shape: gloried in the feverish tongues of those men who spread their crazed scripture to those who pass beneath their perches just out of reach.
Fear.
The word dances across the lips of the multitudes, washing away serenity and sense, slathering a coat of ashen sludge across our hearts and burrowing into the mind like some virulent maggot, squirming for that last litt
Literature
.
jealousy used to write me love letters that were sweet and lonely
during the winter, she talked about presents and joyful carols
by autumn she'd move on to the colorful leaves and tinted orange skies
in a way, i could tell she was being considerate of me
she respected my selfishness and reminded me when i needed comfort
she knew about my sensitivity so she wrote to me in gentle tones
my stubbornness, however, only ever saw helping hands as suicide
that's why i've been secretly stealing her words
to make sure i would have something to say
in fear that if i remained too silent, i too would be buried in the snow
but while I hid behind my scrip
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Comments15
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Do not be afraid of the world, as there are others who inhabit it as you do (ordinaries, loners, liars). So observe the world, and avoid the mistakes others have made. That's what I got from this short poem.