Writer's Pain
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Posts: 31
Flickering candle, the pen bleeding, pulsating in my hand of sorrow…
Redundant to fundamental dissertations. Thesis lay silent to lips of tomorrow…
Meditation of fragment glory, residual only through lost scriptures of fatigue…
Hard ship lays desolate in desperate mammon, a love of riches in the sand…
Venomous nouns celebrate, carronade loss of life through parched canvas…
A society of beckoning wisdom, falcate flowers of the page written…
From Shakespeare, to Hemingway, the bohemian revolution is of age…
Lessened only by disbelievers of love, freedom, and power of status unknown…
Light bursts vigorously upon the vapour that once tore away at my sight…
The spirits that once tormented our being, now acts as a endowment of revolt.
The soul that pours carnivorous vowels…
Tempts humanity to indulge in pain…
Jesters of the gestures of heart light…
Man handled by lesser man of late…
Testaments of haggard light in which…
Is scared beyond belief under shadows…
Shadows of gathered benevolence…
Hindering grace, grace of fallen dammed…
The manuscripts that blend our hearts…
Together in a mesh of hazy grey.
Sensitive genetics of yesterday’s slender, the night of man, fallen curtain upon…
Gold lace, shimmering memory of seductive felonies of fate, destiny lays solely…
With-in a grasp of a sedative writer, his eyes weary with tainted belief and solace…
Face rendered blind to happiness, malice, thus animosity is distant in mind…
So brand a man of which broken, yet would a man smashed in sorrow drink from…
The cup of poets in the mist in which demonstrates so gracefully it’s beauty? …
Summer day’s bloom, children fuss, fight, and light the path of future present…
In the deep dark dank sanctum of followers, sheep of the Shepard leaders…
Marinates as to select a new breed of creative generations, upon the pedestal…
That is intricate into tomorrow’s scripts, rendering another writers pain.
Redundant to fundamental dissertations. Thesis lay silent to lips of tomorrow…
Meditation of fragment glory, residual only through lost scriptures of fatigue…
Hard ship lays desolate in desperate mammon, a love of riches in the sand…
Venomous nouns celebrate, carronade loss of life through parched canvas…
A society of beckoning wisdom, falcate flowers of the page written…
From Shakespeare, to Hemingway, the bohemian revolution is of age…
Lessened only by disbelievers of love, freedom, and power of status unknown…
Light bursts vigorously upon the vapour that once tore away at my sight…
The spirits that once tormented our being, now acts as a endowment of revolt.
The soul that pours carnivorous vowels…
Tempts humanity to indulge in pain…
Jesters of the gestures of heart light…
Man handled by lesser man of late…
Testaments of haggard light in which…
Is scared beyond belief under shadows…
Shadows of gathered benevolence…
Hindering grace, grace of fallen dammed…
The manuscripts that blend our hearts…
Together in a mesh of hazy grey.
Sensitive genetics of yesterday’s slender, the night of man, fallen curtain upon…
Gold lace, shimmering memory of seductive felonies of fate, destiny lays solely…
With-in a grasp of a sedative writer, his eyes weary with tainted belief and solace…
Face rendered blind to happiness, malice, thus animosity is distant in mind…
So brand a man of which broken, yet would a man smashed in sorrow drink from…
The cup of poets in the mist in which demonstrates so gracefully it’s beauty? …
Summer day’s bloom, children fuss, fight, and light the path of future present…
In the deep dark dank sanctum of followers, sheep of the Shepard leaders…
Marinates as to select a new breed of creative generations, upon the pedestal…
That is intricate into tomorrow’s scripts, rendering another writers pain.
I chose living only for seeing
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