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Literature Text
I loved her like the flaws in barbed wire;
it stung. & I needed to take her castle ribs-
but I was jealous of heaven.
She spoke through her bones.
She: a beautiful decay
draped along my apartment,
& the mess of my mouth.
When she left,
I cried big ugly tears
for the First Aid of her
heartbeats
I needed Draco.
I needed her.
“Is it sweet?” She meows even still
with all my self-doubt.
This thing, I must not feed it-
As I still long to leave galaxies
along the length of her entire bed.
it stung. & I needed to take her castle ribs-
but I was jealous of heaven.
She spoke through her bones.
She: a beautiful decay
draped along my apartment,
& the mess of my mouth.
When she left,
I cried big ugly tears
for the First Aid of her
heartbeats
I needed Draco.
I needed her.
“Is it sweet?” She meows even still
with all my self-doubt.
This thing, I must not feed it-
As I still long to leave galaxies
along the length of her entire bed.
Literature
I can't write poetry for dead girls.
there are too
many pills in this
world and too
much misery in
the human heart
but that didn't mean
that you could just
up and leave when
we both know it
could have gotten better
and i miss you like
a wolf misses her pack
or a goddamn dragon misses
her fire and i'm sorry
that i can't give you
a bouquet of jasmines
(they were your
favorite, after all,
because that was
the only princess
with a pet tiger)
because poppies are
too cliche and i'm
sorry i wasn't there
when all you needed
was a hug and for someone
to whisper "it's okay,
you're perfect enough
for me, don't listen
to that junkie bitch
who just happened to
give birth to you" and did
Literature
Wistful
"I am the boy who wants to love
your misshapen words,
your broken hearted pieces,
and
your ink split fingers.
I am the boy who wants to kiss
those scar tattooed arms,
that tear stained face
and
mend what has been broken.
I am the boy who can
and will
make your heart
sing poetry again."
If only he would say it
now
like he had
then.
Literature
His queen, my muse.
Pomegranate seeds
have the most
bitter of tastes.
She is more
than a myth,
you know;
unsullied
and untainted,
a spring's
breeze with
the most
arabesque
of lips.
There are more
flames beneath her
skin than in all of
Hades. With every
breath she takes,
winter cries out
for redemption.
She is magenta.
A maiden of
jasper and agate;
lily eyelashes and
locks of supple ivy.
His goddess:
eternal,
unwavering—
a hyacinth among
weeds and sweet
harvest among
the wretched.
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This is quite an interesting poem, as every line ( including the title) was randomly generated using my own facebook statuses from this site: what-would-i-say.com/ with minor edits in tense and a word or two to help it flow.
I will be making more of these and I encourage everyone to try it because oh my goodness, it is addicting!
I will be making more of these and I encourage everyone to try it because oh my goodness, it is addicting!
Comments43
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How does this work exactly? I'm not on facebook so I don't quite understand. Are these words yours or were they generated?