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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
More in Older Poetry A Blood Lettinga rewrite of an older piece...
I came to tell a story
of love, how the stars move me. I came to make you dream and desire to held but I can't. Deep inside my soul is trembling, sending vibrations while life pounds hard against my veins. Heart is beating, straining against my chest as is shoves the blood towards my fingers. The red flood comes out in words, to show all my fears, all my dreams, to lay my soul bare to you. Undeniable is the inability to hold back as it streams out my fingertips and spreads onto the page. All the rage I have ever felt runs down my arms, emerging as anguished tears, I give them to you. Take them, do what you will with what I give. It is no longer mine, as if it ever was. I was born to write, therefore I never owned these feelings, I only held them until I found you to give them to. |
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