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Pretty, Much Death

First non rhyming poem made by my best friend and I. CREDIT GOES TO: -Cryptic(my friend) -Tragic(me)

Staring into a blank normalic state,

Praying for the days to pass,

Even sooner than they can

But lately every one of my possibilities have failed,

Forcing me to no longer be a good example for optism,

I smell broken promises,

The repulsing stench of false women,

That makes their beautiful fragrances into negative physically ugly people,

Become more and more beautiful to me until my outer body experience allows me to see my own funeral,

Everything ends in tragedy,

The thought of death and what it is,

Odd comfortable feeling of despair,

Peacefulness in all that is dark,

Drops of black rain fills up my grave,

embracing, reincurring,

Dispurse my Ash in a sea fire,

I have been emotionally cold for years,

Warmness from 6 feet of dirt relaxes,

Dirt turns to mud after rainfall,

Hardening my soul in the sun.

© 2018 Tommy Hall

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