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Literature Text
Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day.
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."
You had your chance to make to amends, but you wished not to. I gave you every opportunity
to see your ways be moved to better standings, but you refused. Well, so did I.
No more my enemy, no lies or deceits. You wanted to see what I would do, now you must live
with your decision. I will move without warning, be silent like the night in my defense. You not
see me coming, for like you, I don't fight fair..
Literature
Fight
The fight of the life
The life of the fight
You’ll die tonight
I’ll die tomorrow
You lost your fight
I've gained my sorrow
What doesn't kill us makes us stronger
As time goes by we’re getting older
But we’re getting weaker everyday
In those battles we lost our strength
We fear ourselves cause we are monsters
Though we'll shine brighter than the solstice
And we are beautiful in horrific way
But still getting weaker everyday
We fight because we love
We love that’s why we fight
We will remain in shining glory
In the name of war and endless sorrow
And we’ll be fighting for immortal life
Fighting till th
Literature
Last Message
Foreboding package
your final story to the world
I cannot open it
Literature
burning bodies
and we yearned for something deeper tangled between bed sheets
but our palms were always split open, spilling malice.
our bodies, always in dire separation
even in scalding proximity.
je dis beaucoup des mensonges.
i tell a lot of lies.
the following:
we curled ourselves alongside icicles to bury the flames.
my waist still feels like a graveyard.
even after all the times you tasted my bone marrow,
you still have the nerve to say i'm not bitter.
our mansion is burning from the inside out
and we force-feed the desire with
prolonged gestures and held-breaths.
our combined scar tissue lies in a heap on the floor of our shrine
and the sk
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This is what happens when I listen to Fall Out Boy, Panic at the Disco, and watch Kazoku Game at night.
© 2013 - 2024 cyimang
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