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jadgged Edges
I run my fingers over jagged edges
and look to you
as if to say
this is alright
as you stand there
watching me bleed
if only, my darling
you could see
what i see
oh open your eyes
and look
FOR I AM GREAT'
and why should i not be
is it not ok
to feel like a god
is it a sin
to feel unshakable
indestructible beauty
and truth
And all-though my fingers
run over jagged edges
rather than polished marble
i see whats real
while you hide behind
your palaces, cars
and wasteful halls
so here i stay
unmoved by requests
of reassimilation
fuck you
i cry to the north
i kind of like
the gritty taste
of these jagged edges
so thank you
in a weird minimalstic way
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage:
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Comments
Geezer
Fri, 2015-04-03 10:58
Not exactly sure...
what this work is all about, but I will hazard a guess that it concerns a country divided. Even though I may be wrong about that, I see a great deal of potential in your writing. You made me think, which is a good thing! ~ Geezer
There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
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wesley snow
Sun, 2015-04-05 16:44
I'm with Geezer.
I'm not sure I understood this. A very sick man killing himself in his madness?
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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