"And even when it's all over it still tears you apart." He said with false lament, regurgitating the same line day-after-day with the same purpose of melting ice cubes in the cold. While it was to avoid the uncomfortable experience of actually dealing with a patient's constitutes, he grew annoyed over his inability to lend out his hand. His patients were dying, and there were bleak stories to be told. So, for now, he laments and cries while his patients become lamented and die. Such an inane mockery of medical practice, one might say, but to implant false hope would implement much worse. When one crushes even the slightest e
I fear the earthits motherly call
Confused with contusions.
With flames licking my arms
And the devil taking and breaking my words,
Down in the spiral I go
Never to fully regain flight.
It's such a wondrous sound,
Like a house falling off a cliff
With its inhabitant's joyous banter
Forever feeling a sense of zoanthropy.
This plane crash will reduce me,
Crushing my existence to nothing.
Never before did the sky look so inviting
When viewed upside down.
Down in this steady decline
Lost for the sake of chaos
My life is just a paper airplane.
Crashed, I've crashed this damn life.
Graffiti on the gates to hell
never compared to what befell
on the other side.
This gateway into heaven,
with haunting cries
and human demiseour love for it
sprawled on Berlin's Great Wall.
Such eloquent graffiti to fall a giant.
Copasetic injustice is found deep within the irony of our own misfortune.
Only whenin this inglorious hindsight
we acknowledge our own drab existence we see such destruction of our own selves.
Even when staring down the mindset of criers of goodbye-cruel-world, we shudder to think:
what will become of me?
What will history remember me by?
Suicide has such droll outcomes; sure, we'll accept the evidence based upon the crier of cruel-world's immediate constitutes for such infatuation to mourn the loss of one soul,
but what of the world?
What does one man, killed in their own vanity, have to do with this revolving economy (
Paper Kites, I'm Afraid of by FilteredAir, literature
Literature
Paper Kites, I'm Afraid of
Acrophobia: the condition one finds themselves when staring down the void. Natural reactions to these natural stimulidilated eyes, contortion of one's psyche, this fast heartbeat, and the fear of the uncertainbut is it really the height that we have to be afraid of? Shouldn't we trust our instincts to common sense, to never mock the hooks that keep us grounded, to let this villain weaken our old bones and bring us closer to nether in which we all must return unseated in these lifetimes? I have been uncrowned in this moment of rapture; this sense to just walk off this ledge and test gravity one more time. To become afraid of onesel
Alone as Poealone as the demon in his view,
I've begun to shed this imitation
and grow my own skin.
To be honest to my own originality
is to break the void between me and my Muse.
And only with time and care will you too,
break from the stare of Medusa
and crack the stone that divides our loneliness.
With destruction rivaling Old Misery,
we'll just laugh away these troubles.
Indifference may be an entrapping force,
but I've been so eager, so promiscuous and wild
that I will forge the key
to unlock our great empathy
and release you from this canary cage.
With kerosene eyes
We cry with tears of fire
Neptune's jealousy
Forever locked underneath Poseidon
His shadow is the shade that traps us
And makes travel dangerous
For the sea - tears that gently roll down your cheek
Have I said something
To perfect these wounds
And pick the scabs at
And pick the teeth of
These animate burns?
Have I been
Sanctioned under this tone
Seduced from head to toe
Separated by mind and soul
And been so far deployed to become one felled?
I have said one thing
To initiate and deliberate
Plans of silent torture
To become entrapped in these eyes
And never let this cold heat my heart
Truest to the contrary,
I've begun such cycles to be so scorned to some division of polarity.
The common man, so xenophobic in nature,
views with such distaste in our discourse to our own schema.
And in the deepest of cloture
You've condemned my fair culture.
Goodbye, dear barbarian.
Free-will is a Terrible Prison by FilteredAir, literature
Literature
Free-will is a Terrible Prison
When life is predestined by our surroundings,
What is left for the undisputed mind to control?
Our body, our decisions, our very core
Not dominated by our personalities?
Such reliefthis rock lifted from my busy handsmy mind is freed!
Freed from the chains of free-will.
"And even when it's all over it still tears you apart." He said with false lament, regurgitating the same line day-after-day with the same purpose of melting ice cubes in the cold. While it was to avoid the uncomfortable experience of actually dealing with a patient's constitutes, he grew annoyed over his inability to lend out his hand. His patients were dying, and there were bleak stories to be told. So, for now, he laments and cries while his patients become lamented and die. Such an inane mockery of medical practice, one might say, but to implant false hope would implement much worse. When one crushes even the slightest e
I fear the earthits motherly call
Confused with contusions.
With flames licking my arms
And the devil taking and breaking my words,
Down in the spiral I go
Never to fully regain flight.
It's such a wondrous sound,
Like a house falling off a cliff
With its inhabitant's joyous banter
Forever feeling a sense of zoanthropy.
This plane crash will reduce me,
Crushing my existence to nothing.
Never before did the sky look so inviting
When viewed upside down.
Down in this steady decline
Lost for the sake of chaos
My life is just a paper airplane.
Crashed, I've crashed this damn life.
Graffiti on the gates to hell
never compared to what befell
on the other side.
This gateway into heaven,
with haunting cries
and human demiseour love for it
sprawled on Berlin's Great Wall.
Such eloquent graffiti to fall a giant.
Copasetic injustice is found deep within the irony of our own misfortune.
Only whenin this inglorious hindsight
we acknowledge our own drab existence we see such destruction of our own selves.
Even when staring down the mindset of criers of goodbye-cruel-world, we shudder to think:
what will become of me?
What will history remember me by?
Suicide has such droll outcomes; sure, we'll accept the evidence based upon the crier of cruel-world's immediate constitutes for such infatuation to mourn the loss of one soul,
but what of the world?
What does one man, killed in their own vanity, have to do with this revolving economy (
Paper Kites, I'm Afraid of by FilteredAir, literature
Literature
Paper Kites, I'm Afraid of
Acrophobia: the condition one finds themselves when staring down the void. Natural reactions to these natural stimulidilated eyes, contortion of one's psyche, this fast heartbeat, and the fear of the uncertainbut is it really the height that we have to be afraid of? Shouldn't we trust our instincts to common sense, to never mock the hooks that keep us grounded, to let this villain weaken our old bones and bring us closer to nether in which we all must return unseated in these lifetimes? I have been uncrowned in this moment of rapture; this sense to just walk off this ledge and test gravity one more time. To become afraid of onesel
Alone as Poealone as the demon in his view,
I've begun to shed this imitation
and grow my own skin.
To be honest to my own originality
is to break the void between me and my Muse.
And only with time and care will you too,
break from the stare of Medusa
and crack the stone that divides our loneliness.
With destruction rivaling Old Misery,
we'll just laugh away these troubles.
Indifference may be an entrapping force,
but I've been so eager, so promiscuous and wild
that I will forge the key
to unlock our great empathy
and release you from this canary cage.
With kerosene eyes
We cry with tears of fire
Neptune's jealousy
Forever locked underneath Poseidon
His shadow is the shade that traps us
And makes travel dangerous
For the sea - tears that gently roll down your cheek
Have I said something
To perfect these wounds
And pick the scabs at
And pick the teeth of
These animate burns?
Have I been
Sanctioned under this tone
Seduced from head to toe
Separated by mind and soul
And been so far deployed to become one felled?
I have said one thing
To initiate and deliberate
Plans of silent torture
To become entrapped in these eyes
And never let this cold heat my heart
Truest to the contrary,
I've begun such cycles to be so scorned to some division of polarity.
The common man, so xenophobic in nature,
views with such distaste in our discourse to our own schema.
And in the deepest of cloture
You've condemned my fair culture.
Goodbye, dear barbarian.
Free-will is a Terrible Prison by FilteredAir, literature
Literature
Free-will is a Terrible Prison
When life is predestined by our surroundings,
What is left for the undisputed mind to control?
Our body, our decisions, our very core
Not dominated by our personalities?
Such reliefthis rock lifted from my busy handsmy mind is freed!
Freed from the chains of free-will.
It's too bad that I can't submit all of the shit that comes out of my mind.
It's stuck in "do not submit/share on any other site/competition until the date of" purgatory.
My cousin and i wrote this one, i wanted your opinion since you actually give reviews and not just "oh this is good" so yeah and if you want you can go over the more recent things ive written