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Walking a tightrope between Wanting to stay and running away. Those words held weight like a free falling piano. Unaware of my surroundings until it was too late.
By Kyle Ross6 years ago in Poets
Kicked in the fucking chest, Time and time again. This feeling is all too familiar. Occurring on a bi-weekly basis, A steel toe boot introduces itself to the sternum.
In so deep, The light of day can barely be seen. From this far down, Everything seems so insignificant. At the time, digging was all that mattered.
Struggle has the spirit Gasping for air. Plunged head first Into water Again and again. Baptism by affliction. Before there was some fight.
Can this charade come to a fucking end? Can we both say what we want to hear? Existing is fucking miserable without you. I know it is for you too.
Sentences cultivated, Lay foundation In the Temporal Lobe, Evoking dormant embers To feverishly flourish, Encircling my entire frame.
Endless letdowns contort my perception In such a way, That I am forced to believe My ghost is meant to aimlessly roam companionless.
My cage has held, But one true love. A love that has provided The utmost allegiance. No cowards have placed knives In the back
Her apparition Bled through The unoccupied aperture, Set in the door That separates Daily thoughts From dream state.