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Unrequited Passion

Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.

Set the Mood


Tears made of words,

They spill forth to the page.

Like blood flows from the wrist,

So does sorrow run ever onward.

I see those that stand complete,

Like a gorgeous portrait immortalized.

I’ll touch them with my wet hands,

Now stained with the paint of passion.

Wipe me away like dust on a shelf,

Sneeze when I fill the air around you.

Allergic to the pain that envelops me,

Yet revisit my successes like an old friend.

Flying high up like the clouds in the sky,

You soar with me under my wing.

Come time to take me under yours,

All I see are the vultures circling.

Passion Can Be Lonely

It doesn't matter whether it is a sore topic like my hatred of religion, a lighter topic like outdoor activity, or a deep topic such as love, I'm one of the most passionate beings you will ever meet. When I feel, see, do, or say something I want everyone to know that my connection to it is deep. I'll connect to everything and do so passionately with ease, but in that same vein people will disconnect from me when I immerse in the darkness. Darkness used to be my only friend, and when I stop in to say hi to him, so departs everyone around me.

Be a friend to and within the darkness, it doesn't need to be lonely.

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