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Literature Text
What would you do if I told you that what's best of me is holding together what's rotting my core?
How would you feel knowing that what you love the most about me is what's keeping me from getting better?
Would you kill what's best of me to stop my demons and my bitter pride?
I would like you to know that it wouldn't change the way I feel about you.
Those - three - little - words
(that sometimes get pushed through airtight lips.)
But someone forgot to let out the moths.
(Lets just say that they had their way with a cotton tongue.)
Now the worn cloth doesn't flow like it use to.
A hollow structure, bends in the lightest breeze.
Is it possible to wander without stumbling blind?
-No-
Actually it's become a myth,
Just like the truth slipping from a moth eaten cloth.
How would you feel knowing that what you love the most about me is what's keeping me from getting better?
Would you kill what's best of me to stop my demons and my bitter pride?
I would like you to know that it wouldn't change the way I feel about you.
Those - three - little - words
(that sometimes get pushed through airtight lips.)
But someone forgot to let out the moths.
(Lets just say that they had their way with a cotton tongue.)
Now the worn cloth doesn't flow like it use to.
A hollow structure, bends in the lightest breeze.
Is it possible to wander without stumbling blind?
-No-
Actually it's become a myth,
Just like the truth slipping from a moth eaten cloth.
Literature
Retrospection
We beg for mercy,
to be pardoned
of a sin not of
our own volition;
to escape what
haunts the mind
through dreams
and distorted images.
There is an escape,
but it seems far-fetched,
and it only leads
to further damnation.
Breaking the silence
with a subtle scream;
still the heart is
shattered with memories.
-Brian Shuffett
July 11th, 2010
Literature
Under
Said you'll never leave a promise you never conceived.
This sparkling light is dimming and slowly fades away;
This fire burning is cooling and never will stay.
I believed what you've said sweet lies I cradled in my head.
These eyes then open, now stitched shut and weary;
This heart then beating, now petrified and dreary.
Said you'll never run a promise completely gone.
Fading footsteps, I hear in silence
When you left me hanging in bitter decadence.
But you were never contented, never pleased.
You drowned me under; the bottom, I reached.
Literature
Dissolution
I have found
that there are
no certainties,
nothing that
one may truly
claim as their own.
Torn from my hand
was your heart,
and you have sought
to devour my soul
through manifestations
that have charred
the walls of my mind.
-Brian Shuffett
July 27th, 2010
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