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Thorns

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By Harydo NeonPublished 4 years ago 1 min read
2

In a corridor of mouth and ears

Speaking things out of eyes they lack

Hurtful, in the absence of fear

Like they have enough up in stacks

Getting judged by those I do not know

Or by those who I thought knew me

I see you and heard what you said about me

But I don't worry about August of snow

We don't vibe and it hurts you to admit it

You rather says things and hurt those close to me

Oh saint who has never has a dirt slate

Oh judge who has never declared a sentence of late

My life is like a thousand pages on a yearly verse

And you could claim to know me but have no clue

A lost soul I am and I don't bother

Friendships are submarines, they always go under.

Sometimes I come to terms that I am all I've got

And stop holding people to the stake for not understanding

If my life was a fictional, I would be a snowman in a volcano

People at my back, standing, while some are at my back, stabbing.

But I know these corridor spit when they talk

Rumours of who I am flying at night

Your hate for me is a vigilante, I am the sun

So it is safe to say, you are only bold at night.

slam poetry
2

About the Creator

Harydo Neon

I drain my thoughts through my pen. That's the only way I breathe.

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