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Literature Text
It is okay.
You can say it.
Die.
The bluntest word there is.
No-nonsense, simple, elegant, and poisonous.
There is no reasoning with death,
There is no running from it,
No
No
No.
No escape from it;
Death.
With ragged, gnarled claws,
It comes for you too;
Bearing gifts
Of timeless remorse,
And of sorrowful longing.
Dying.
It strikes a chord;
Deep...
Within the hearts of hearts,
As souls upon souls
Can see it laid to waste.
All of life's trivialities;
Each of our qualms,
Our dilemmas;
Carefully sorted out
And left to rot.
Ironically,
There is but a single thing
That can never rot.
Love...
You can say it.
Die.
The bluntest word there is.
No-nonsense, simple, elegant, and poisonous.
There is no reasoning with death,
There is no running from it,
No
No
No.
No escape from it;
Death.
With ragged, gnarled claws,
It comes for you too;
Bearing gifts
Of timeless remorse,
And of sorrowful longing.
Dying.
It strikes a chord;
Deep...
Within the hearts of hearts,
As souls upon souls
Can see it laid to waste.
All of life's trivialities;
Each of our qualms,
Our dilemmas;
Carefully sorted out
And left to rot.
Ironically,
There is but a single thing
That can never rot.
Love...
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Literature
Edge of Emptiness
At times you will be powerless.
You will be unable to do a damn thing
To stop the wreckage you see unfolding before you
And the consequences will come in blood.
Those moments are bitter
And they fill you with hatred
So much so that you'll wish;
You'll wish for everything around you to simply die!
And when it has, when all around you is blackened dust...
Finally, finally, there won't be anyone left
To ever see you cry.
- Written by Word of Chen, Masquerade series - Poem 2
Literature
Ghost Debris
Despair crept a soft foot in the space between
the tip of lip, the liquid of my speech and tongue
a thief the weight of words
hidden in a melancholy laugh, in stolen sand trickling through an hourglass.
Sleepless draught of water,
grief swimming in my temporal lobe.
I have been here before -
I occupy this place damp and small,
throwing light away into corners.
Passion grown too raw to hold, I let it fall.
I hollow out this skull,
horrify my reflection with the dark mote of my eyes,
sunken as a grave
robber finding only clay where head or stone should lie.
Grim molar smile and solar eclipse,
every blink a mortal footprint of demise
reaped clo
Literature
The Storm
Bending breaking bloodied baking
in an oven's sickness spreading,
Smeared across a white pure sky,
Teardrop one ink spot and
ripple...
ripple...
ripple...
out until I die
Trapped
in this oven built by life's unfairs,
Permanent colors smudge my retinas fused with welding flares,
Blindly stumbling crumbling through this oven's savage thundering,
A rotten throbbing gasping storm is brewing-is coming
The air no more, the sky though
It swore
I swear it swore, it would never be put out anymore,
Now blazing tempests roam, the oven swallows the sky I used to know,
I beg it, beg it, beg it: show me the sky once more, once more...
once more
I
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Comments11
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Your description of death as
"Bearing gifts
Of timeless remorse"
is really beautiful and thought-provoking. The last line is gorgeous too. The kindest of gut punches
"Bearing gifts
Of timeless remorse"
is really beautiful and thought-provoking. The last line is gorgeous too. The kindest of gut punches