With all the optimism one can have in this world I never saw this one coming. Give and give, give more, give it all. What was supposed to be left over and taken back? Rudeness? Yelling? Defiance? A cold shoulder? Doubt? In the end as a whole those things don’t really amount to anything at all.
Under the ceramic firing there is a faceless being, one in which can be most desirable. The object of the mask is to hide the truth and let the viewer believe what he or she wants. Portrayal of this is irony, antagonizing only those who find the real figure.
It was a sign that remincsing the pasts are due within the now. Fate sealed itself a fine little contract when that in 84 arrived. It’s a dynasty where history is reapeating itself and regret set’s its nasty feelers in.
A cycle was broken, but it was a surface cycle that’s only a few roots in the ground to change generations of corruption. Who was I? an utterly insane individual in thinking change could and would be in less than half a decade. Lacking in so many departments of fundamental needs, not even an army of people could tackle this project.
Hidden between the lines are dry tears and a frown so permanent it forgot the calculations in conducting a smile.
Not only is the one seeing the pain itself, but the inhabitants of his / her surrounding are very aware, but yet again they say nothing. As if they get off watching the suffering. And you all said you cared…..
Self indulgence is the conviction with the second degree sentence. A term spend behind imaginary bars. The disturbances, riots, false allies and contemporary rape that happens behind this wall is no more forgiving if it wasn’t metaphorical.
The perfect stranger who came from no where, has more insight and recollection of the crime then the innocent bystander doing the time.
When the future was planned to turn a life around the now was certainly not a featured event. It is the giving part that drives the fury inside wild. Should this be released…That persona is probably not a song that should be sung. Headlines would read “Who is this?” or “I had no idea she could or was….”
Surprising the least expecting candidates it would be the child’s cry that would kill the demon and take the hosting body with it.
In the far end of the residence I can hear an uncontrolled anger. So juvineille, so much hurt, hatred and laziness.
It is the firing point for a target that a woman holds. It doesn’t matter if she’s bleeding, at this point he wont stop shooting.
If he lost her…He’s never even notice it. So what was the assumption of a conclusion from the hook up in the first place? Oh right selfishness. Empty promises and a major lack of romance will be the sour voice left within the captured victim.
Praising by all means the delight of what could have been had there been such a thing as forever. The lies and quietness of an engaging embarkment. What the hell was the gain?...wasted time yet again on something that never existed in the first place.
There never seems to be a proper explaination or description of how badly wearing your heart on your sleeve is. Most people can reconcile it withing themselves to configure it as a flaw. Others who feel the arm pulsing as it is stabbed is reminded of the matter that they are none the less fucked right up.
Although perhaps there is a misconception.
Maybe even a moment where yes I was wrong.
Maybe I panicked.
Maybe I took the words and somehow got the message all backwards. Whichever way it ended up, it all feels and tastes like heartbreak.
Then a third party came into the picture….no wait….make that four. Sometimes the outside is the gateway to the inside of a storm. Someone else to untangle the crapiness of a situation. And that seems to be exactly it.
As the moon sets and a sun rises the dull bitterness of anger, hate and dismay are the attributes to wake up to. A longing to have died while dreaming of a different atmosphere.
What would they have all done had that person never woken up? Would that person look down on them as they found the body? I promise that spirit would be laughing for she had won the better of the game. It was then up to the higher level to settle a few disgruntled scores….starting with a mother.
When all a person strives for is the betterment of themselves and the people to which their lives are affiliated, to swallow the confirmation that someone is this fucked up is like replacing an eye with a razor blade.
For absolute nonsense to come from a brain that has close to a degree worth of knowledge, the deciphering reads that the intellectualism is only fun facts. To obtain the right to speak freely but be zippered shut by the non understanding. Draw a straight line which only ends up circling itself. Cut a corner to make a square. End a proclamation with a question…What the hell is the meaning of my life?
Under the ceramic firing there is a faceless being, one in which can be most desirable. The object of the mask is to hide the truth and let the viewer believe what he or she wants. Portrayal of this is irony, antagonizing only those who find the real figure.
It was a sign that remincsing the pasts are due within the now. Fate sealed itself a fine little contract when that in 84 arrived. It’s a dynasty where history is reapeating itself and regret set’s its nasty feelers in.
A cycle was broken, but it was a surface cycle that’s only a few roots in the ground to change generations of corruption. Who was I? an utterly insane individual in thinking change could and would be in less than half a decade. Lacking in so many departments of fundamental needs, not even an army of people could tackle this project.
Hidden between the lines are dry tears and a frown so permanent it forgot the calculations in conducting a smile.
Not only is the one seeing the pain itself, but the inhabitants of his / her surrounding are very aware, but yet again they say nothing. As if they get off watching the suffering. And you all said you cared…..
Self indulgence is the conviction with the second degree sentence. A term spend behind imaginary bars. The disturbances, riots, false allies and contemporary rape that happens behind this wall is no more forgiving if it wasn’t metaphorical.
The perfect stranger who came from no where, has more insight and recollection of the crime then the innocent bystander doing the time.
When the future was planned to turn a life around the now was certainly not a featured event. It is the giving part that drives the fury inside wild. Should this be released…That persona is probably not a song that should be sung. Headlines would read “Who is this?” or “I had no idea she could or was….”
Surprising the least expecting candidates it would be the child’s cry that would kill the demon and take the hosting body with it.
In the far end of the residence I can hear an uncontrolled anger. So juvineille, so much hurt, hatred and laziness.
It is the firing point for a target that a woman holds. It doesn’t matter if she’s bleeding, at this point he wont stop shooting.
If he lost her…He’s never even notice it. So what was the assumption of a conclusion from the hook up in the first place? Oh right selfishness. Empty promises and a major lack of romance will be the sour voice left within the captured victim.
Praising by all means the delight of what could have been had there been such a thing as forever. The lies and quietness of an engaging embarkment. What the hell was the gain?...wasted time yet again on something that never existed in the first place.
There never seems to be a proper explaination or description of how badly wearing your heart on your sleeve is. Most people can reconcile it withing themselves to configure it as a flaw. Others who feel the arm pulsing as it is stabbed is reminded of the matter that they are none the less fucked right up.
Although perhaps there is a misconception.
Maybe even a moment where yes I was wrong.
Maybe I panicked.
Maybe I took the words and somehow got the message all backwards. Whichever way it ended up, it all feels and tastes like heartbreak.
Then a third party came into the picture….no wait….make that four. Sometimes the outside is the gateway to the inside of a storm. Someone else to untangle the crapiness of a situation. And that seems to be exactly it.
As the moon sets and a sun rises the dull bitterness of anger, hate and dismay are the attributes to wake up to. A longing to have died while dreaming of a different atmosphere.
What would they have all done had that person never woken up? Would that person look down on them as they found the body? I promise that spirit would be laughing for she had won the better of the game. It was then up to the higher level to settle a few disgruntled scores….starting with a mother.
When all a person strives for is the betterment of themselves and the people to which their lives are affiliated, to swallow the confirmation that someone is this fucked up is like replacing an eye with a razor blade.
For absolute nonsense to come from a brain that has close to a degree worth of knowledge, the deciphering reads that the intellectualism is only fun facts. To obtain the right to speak freely but be zippered shut by the non understanding. Draw a straight line which only ends up circling itself. Cut a corner to make a square. End a proclamation with a question…What the hell is the meaning of my life?
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