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Pillars / home (writing)
Current mood:
gloomy
I'm leaving nowPlease, drive a pillar into the ground so there is at least something to return toFor as long as I call it home,Its roots will always call me backEven if not all roads lead West,the most important of them is oneOne in which she could not pass -- darker than storm clouds,blacker than a thousand nights,but More alive than all living things, and full of anger. The hope that did not come trueRemained a caustic muddy puddle in the desert of expectationsTime passed through our fingers like water,leaving only scars and sand in dry cuts.You're used to burying your face in empty palms: look what happened to themThe opportunities you missedThe words that had to be exchanged for the silence of a stonewhich is now quietly drowning in your sleepygrey harbour that anchors the end."if it's not about You, let it be broken on the insideand crushed on the outside.All I need to know is that you won't let me down or follow me into any bottomwith no hope of returning.There are things that are better left unexplainedAnd there are rapids that won't turn you over. For those who left home so young, leaving notes in the windowsIt will be easier to understand all of this. We're all crashingand time is running out. The stone pillars are just crosses at our doorsteps.What remains, is the desire to merge into the family we tore ourselves from... and under the soft leaves of November,in these Godforsaken places,remains the desire to become earth, and the wind that, in rage, tears apart the cloudsThe tops of the trees torn to shreds."As if she wants to return to her very youthand relive those yearswith teeth, clawsSobbing so as to not let go of what will come off at the roots.Hammering nails into your earsso that at least now they will hear the sound of your heart.Only words can remain, only memories can remainAnd missed callsmark the stories of mistakes in youth .
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poem, sad
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