Angelic

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The seraphs called out from on high,
And the guardians shed their wings.
The archangels bristled with righteous indignance
At the massacre of all things.
To take arms up against one another,
Spill the blood of foes in the name of kin,
Seek glory in death, relish in power,
Is surely the deadliest sin.

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Non Believer

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You are no messenger of god.
I don’t believe in the words that you say,
Or the existence of your source,
So take your fake proclamations away.

I have no donkey to speak to me,
Nor one willing to carry my load.
There is just me on this broken path,
And I’m fairly sure I took the wrong road.

Do not speak as though eons of knowledge
Flow steadily, dripping from your tongue.
There is no guidance from your good book
Showing how this battle can be won.

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Stark

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In the middle of the night, I will find you,
And maybe along the way, I’ll find myself.
It has never been my intention to blind you
Into mistaking this for anything else.
In the harshest sunlight, shining starkly,
Irradiating everything within its touch,
Would it be an imposition for you to think of me,
Or is such courtesy an inconvenience too much?

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Love is Love

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The stars did not go out tonight.

No inky canopy lost its sparkle, nor did the light grow dim.

No flames were extinguished tonight.

Embers still caress wicks and flare a rainbow of colours in their kiss.

Hope did not fail tonight.

Dreams and wishes still whisper their wisdom and are kept, nurtured, alive within.

Love did not fade tonight.

No hatred, no torment, no blistering evil will ever grow strong enough to stop this.

Because love is love, and we are love,

And we are stronger with it than without,

And to those who wish to destroy love,

Well, let there never be any doubt:

Love will win, every time. Even for those we have never met.

Because love is love, and love will shine. We will not forget.

A Study In Pride

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Don’t tell me you’re proud of me,
When it’s nothing but a fucking platitude,
A balm to soothe the wounds of your words,
Or to pull out the barbs
Of your own lack of worth from my skin.

You don’t get to be proud of me,
Show me off like a trophy of your achievements,
When your dismissal’s etched into my surfaces,
Marking me forever scarred.
You are not proud of me.

You scorn anyone who’s ever praised me.
Laugh, sneer, joke like I am one,
Until I become one.
Until your song is the only one I remember the lyrics for.
I have allowed your pride in me
To hollow out this shell.
To carve this non-life I’ve believed
Is all I deserve to exist in
To be nothing but this.
What even is, this?

You are not proud of me.
The word proud has no right getting past your teeth,
And I don’t need the lashings of your tongue
To remind me of that.

But I still hear that.
Any second I let me believe in myself,
Or listen to someone that’s not you.
And I don’t want to anymore.

Because you are not proud of me.

And I don’t need you to be.

I am not you.

Silent Retreat

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It’s not that I’m giving up.
But when you change the goalposts
And have nothing left to say anymore,
The thought that I have most
Is resignation.
I’ve predicted that this day would come,
Like I’m a self-inflicting almanac
That foresaw one day, you’d be done.
I guess I kind of hoped
This meant more than silent retreat,
But it’s okay. I accept it wasn’t. That I’m not.
I won’t force what isn’t there to defeat.
I have grown cold with acceptance that
There’s no longer any interest here for you.
So this is where I give in and stop reaching out,
For that’s all I’ve left in me to do.

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To The Person

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To the person who thinks they know my songs by heart:
You’re a fool. You couldn’t tell a bridge from a chorus, for a start.
To the person who thinks they know my buttons to push;
Wrong sequence entered. Did you take your lessons from a fabled flaming bush?
To the person who thinks they give me reason to live,
You think I’m blind to your distancing? Keep going. I’ve no more time to give.
To the person that I am writing these words to:
If there’s one thing I don’t need in my world, it’s you.

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