welcome

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welcome

You enter the world with a plastic spoon

Paper cuts from the divorce papers

And bloodstains from the violence

Hide in your corner

Drown in your tears

Sink to the bottom

Look up to see nothing

But bad memories

And nightmares

You are the nightmare

Your there nightmare

Goodnight little one

Cry yourself to sleep

Scrape your wrists with there rings

And laugh at the insanity of love

Scream to the heavens to take you away

But the angles are unable to hear

Lost at the bottom you lay to rest

Someday you will grow up to be just like them

Goodnight

Sleep tight

Let the angels haunt you and hold you tight

For your parents are gray

And laying there you’ll stay

Wondering why your there sadness and empty hearts

It’s the start of a family

With you as the unwanted and redundant

Labor of art

Your heart is of stone

And tears of blood

Your fingers raw knives

And a brain of lies

You’ll grow up a fiend

 And the cycle will evolve yet again

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Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

kirasorbera’s Poems (3)

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good as old 0
detour 0
welcome 1

kirasorbera’s Friends (1)