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Literature Text
My life is going nowhere
Spinning out of control
Bound in chains-
Seeing their hot gaze
Follow me down below
My wings can no longer spread
My eyes cannot see
No sound can I hear
My only feel is dread
Down, still downward I plunge
My arms reaching desperately
For the wide blue
Of the sky I loved
No more to feel the wind's caress
No more to see the sun's light
Dance along the fields below
Shining through the clouds so white
I must have reached too far
Set my eyes on a goal
Deemed too wrong
To turn me into such a scar
Thrust out, I have no home
No people can I claim as mine
No love is there, loneliness
Is what I shall find
The ground caves as I hit my mark
The shafts erupt and twist
Turning and shifting its form
To form my cage, so dark
Here I shall stay, alone
In a place empty, silent, and cold
Face my time, day after day
Until my end comes, to find me old
Spinning out of control
Bound in chains-
Seeing their hot gaze
Follow me down below
My wings can no longer spread
My eyes cannot see
No sound can I hear
My only feel is dread
Down, still downward I plunge
My arms reaching desperately
For the wide blue
Of the sky I loved
No more to feel the wind's caress
No more to see the sun's light
Dance along the fields below
Shining through the clouds so white
I must have reached too far
Set my eyes on a goal
Deemed too wrong
To turn me into such a scar
Thrust out, I have no home
No people can I claim as mine
No love is there, loneliness
Is what I shall find
The ground caves as I hit my mark
The shafts erupt and twist
Turning and shifting its form
To form my cage, so dark
Here I shall stay, alone
In a place empty, silent, and cold
Face my time, day after day
Until my end comes, to find me old
Literature
Guilt
Guilt (A work of fiction that is all too true) Charles Foster was feeling particularly old today. It must have been the weather. In truth, he was quite old, but as he put it, age hadn’t caught him yet. Born into a war and a veteran of two more, he had seen all that there was to see, done all that there was to do. He now lived in a quiet little house in a quiet little town. Despite his great age, he was still a formidable sight. Foster was taller than a good deal of the townspeople, even when his back was bent like the tree in the town square—as he quite often was. His face was perpetually set in either a grim glare or a scowl, but a few of the older folk like the mayor insisted that he had was soft as a marshmallow beneath the grizzled and weathered face, as hard as that was to believe. He always wore the same outfit: a loose plaid white and blue dress shirt with the
Literature
Unease
The world will face its early end
When scorn becomes the new trend
The remaining hope is our sense
Only we can save the world from its absence
Literature
Crucified
Yesterdays never forgotten, here in psychobabylon,
It melds itself into today, and I can never move on
You thought I was .. a problem before.. You ain't seen nothing yet,
Yeah if you thought I was the problem before well you ain't seen nothing yet,
Waiting on the backflow, but I know it just ain't coming yet,
No one ... ever taught me .. .. how to forgive and forget
Disconnected voices, transverse round my head
Artifacts of a yesterday, it will never be dead
You thought I was .. destructive before.. You ain't seen nothing yet,
Yeah if you thought I was a terror before well you ain't seen nothing yet,
Waiting on the bloodflow, but I know i
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