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It's all gone now,
What I thought I possessed has dried up like a river bed.
It is truly tragic, because I've worked my skill dry,
and that is unquestionably my fault.
Without warning I'm not given a chance to rejuvinate the fountain.
The stretch marks have permanetley scarred the skin,
there is no remedy for glory, and the everlasting infamy that comes with it.
If everything goes up in flames
And nothing is as it seems;
I know who to blame:
Blame the people who patronize,
Blame the people who critisize,
Blame all of them except yourself.
then true condolences will arrive.
We wait for rapture.
Hear our call Jesus.
The time has arrived to develop our skill.
To die in the flame,
to die with all the fame.
It's time to disguise all truths,
for only lies exist in Utopia.
Only hate flourishes among family.
Kill the traitor, he has sinned.
Who is God?
The almighty creator, whom is a spectator.
No.
For fools can pile word, upon word as well.
Listen to the calling of the animals
they tell the story of blood thirsty babies
climbing high to the tops of trash mounds looking for gold;
the people stare in awe.
The almighty creator
let loose a torrent of fog
let loose the fatal disease
Curse man, he has sinned
Curse the woman whom is no longer a virgin
Curse the apparitions telling us lies
Bless the politicians for feeding us broth.
We need the sustenance.
Thank you God.
I see you now.





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Jared said...
Nov. 29, 2011 at 7:19 pm
I think this is a very nice poem! I like how's it's very deep, and depressing. Like the quote says, it can only be flaws, which can mostly be fixed.
 
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