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I guess Ive never understood
Why people have to be a certain way
Maybe Im naïve,
But I dont understand why
Naïveté is such a horrible trait
For were all of us naïve;
To look upon the world with fresh eyes,
So dont complain about old age
Only to condemn my persistent youth!
My canvas is clean
Dont insult me by
Painting it with lies because,
Accordingly, I cant handle the truth
You cant handle the truth!
Youre the one naïve; beaten
With what such knowledge
Has done to you!
But Im different, I may be
But Ive never fancied bias
And while I lack your sophistication
Im nothing but curious:
Why does that particularity sophisticate you?
For sophistication to me
Is knowing anything is possible;
To every experience
And though Ive had few
I relish each had, looking forward to the new
Beating NickWe sit in class comparing
But nobodys a better GPA than the guy in the beatnik clothes
Dreadlocked hair and No-Cal prose
Heart in the surf and sand in his toes
For this guy knows what none of us know
The ink of a transcript is merely for show
He wants not for money
For he knows of its woes
So whats his business in the land of pose?
Its clearly not the life he chose
Sadly, he told me, thats just how it goes
The Copper QueenAre we traitor to our sovereign,
The radiant Copper Queen,
When we whisper lies of freedom
And promises of The Dream?
For were discarding her like pennies
In fistfuls down the well;
So many wishes lost for
Every pennys brought such hell.
Because The Dream is up for sale
And its gonna cost to save
Enough to live in liberty
Just once before the grave.
Yet we keep digging deeper wounds
In every mountain that we rent.
What has the future come to
Counting coppers by the cent?
How much longer shall it be
Till livings no longer free?
As for me
Once Ive spent
The last bloody cent,
Ill sell my liberty
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More