Would you grab my hand, if I were sinking deep?
Would you risk it all? Because words are cheap
Would you run into the fire? Through the flames and smoke?
Would you risk being burnt? Or baby would you choke?
When you delve deep into my soul, into the darkest corners of my mind
Will you pull me out? Will you hold me close? Or will you just leave me behind?
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Poetry is meant to break the eased
And ease the broken
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Nothing can happen more beautifull than death
-Walt whitman /leaves of grass
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i tore my room apart
searching for a way to feel good about myself
five shirts, three shorts
and i never felt happy
i stared into the mirror
criticizing all of my features aloud
like it's a game
what part of my mind can i fuck with today?
stomach, hair, legs, face
pick and choose
any of them will work
i pick all
i cried staring into the mirror
-k.c.
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There's holes in the book
They weren't there before
The spine is cracked
It's been thrown on the floor
Just one book
no one will read
Just glance past it
with so much speed
There's holes in the book
And pages ripped out
The lies left there
The truth isn't allowed
Listen to the pages
There speaking to you
Someone needs to read them
It's long overdue
There's holes in the book
Someone set them free
But there not too far
Because the book is me
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oops! it seems i tripped and dropped several million free books, papers, and other resources
https://annas-archive.org
https://sci-hub.se
https://z-lib.is
https://libgen.is
https://libgen.rs
https://www.pdfdrive.com
https://library.memoryoftheworld.org
https://monoskop.org/Monoskop
https://libcom.org
https://libretexts.org
http://classics.mit.edu
https://librivox.org
https://standardebooks.org
https://www.gutenberg.org
https://core.ac.uk
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A BLURRED LOVE
Into One Another III, To PPP, Berlinde De Bruyckere (2010) / Hysterics of Love, Eric Fischl (1997) / We Are All Flesh, Berlinde De Bruyckere (2009)
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The seats are empty, the theatre is dark.
so why do you keep acting?
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They are discusted by my blood but they love to watch me bleed
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graves grow no green that you can use.
gwendolyn brooks
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How much you mean to me
I've been in this place many times before,
You're not the first to walk out the door
I know it's too late to say,
How much I love you, day by day
It's only fair to admit,
You're not the first to call it quits
But it's never too late, you see,
To show just how much you mean to me
~ For Your Pleasure
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When Emily Brontë wrote, “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
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i wonder if people from my past still think about me, strange to think such an outdated version of me exists in their minds.
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