These Foolish MenThese Foolish MenThese Foolish Men
When murder isn’t a consequence, but a dying plea. When everything’s inside out, and your reflection is me. When the last page is shredded, recycled, and remade. When the beginning dies, and the middle fades. When the twilight is shadowed and the night is long gone. When the game is over, and nobody’s won. When they hold up a meek hand in need, When they bit the hand that feeds. When the fall and do not rise, When they never act surprised. When they battle without grace, When they look without a face. When they are lessened in
Manufactured KillerManufactured KillerManufactured Killer
Never allowed to think against the rules, Beaten at home and punished at school. Take what was given at birth in trade For the manufactured feelings they made. Feed him the knowledge he shouldn’t know, Planting a weed, and watching it grow. And he got older, learned to function on fear. Counting down the seconds of each living year. They ransacked his house, trying to find The single weapon he had hidden in his mind. He can’t forget it, can only wait. Rise an army out of this hate. As they tear down and pull apart, Words as
Leaving Us, Leaving MeLeaving Us, Leaving MeLeaving Us, Leaving Me
At the end of this road,
That we have traveled together, We will find a way To make this world better. Our footprints are memories, Each a closer step to today. The shadows are longer, And the evening’s faded to gray. The pages are ending As we scribble the last lines in the book. We mark the unforgotten stories With all the secret pictures we took. And then we don’t remember them Until twenty years later moving boxes and heirlooms. A lifetime of love, Packed away in a spare room. So the sky mel
What About...What about the boy coming home to a trailer, All beat up with no heat? What about the blind man, Sleeping on the street? What about the shadow, Hiding out in the trash yards? What about the bar’s favorite cheater Winning someone else’s rent over cards? What about the last one in line, Who lets everyone else pass? What about the red-handed theft, Turns and runs, impossibly fast? What about the woman needing money, So much she works in her bed? What about the once-great one Who remains only a voice in the head? What about the leader of a deWhat About...
Thanks so much for reading and
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Stop popping that bubble wrap and check out *ThePurpleNurple
“Make [your] characters want something right away—even if it’s only a glass of water."-- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
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The apocalypse is not when everything ends, but when the idea of such is no longer feared.
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The apocalypse is not when everything ends, but when the idea of such is no longer feared.
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The apocalypse is not when everything ends, but when the idea of such is no longer feared.
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"It's the way she looks at me
Possess me to
Collect the head of anyone
Collect the head of those who look her way
It's the way her whispers seem to kiss my ear
I collect the head of anyone
Collect the head of those graced by hear voice."
--
The apocalypse is not when everything ends, but when the idea of such is no longer feared.
--
"It's the way she looks at me
Possess me to
Collect the head of anyone
Collect the head of those who look her way
It's the way her whispers seem to kiss my ear
I collect the head of anyone
Collect the head of those graced by hear voice."
--
The apocalypse is not when everything ends, but when the idea of such is no longer feared.
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