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Literature Text
They dart swiftly, flashing, silvery like a coin mid-flip, gone before you can even
Minnows, I believe. Small, and quick, like minnows. They must be.
Too quick to be speared, too fickle to be caught. I want one.
I cast a line, it flies like spider's silk
It bobs fruitlessly on the horizon.
Shadows there, underneath.
Too shy to take the bait.
My line lies limp and unused
And yet
There is a bite
Great turbulence in the water
A shark, some kind of shark
Not the little minnow that I like
There is the line in my hands,
And the scissors in the other.
To cut the line and lose it,
Or to be pulled in with the shark?
I only wanted a minnow,
If only you had been a minnow...
Literature
Please, just anything
I never wanted to.
I tricked my own mind into thinking I could just stop
Stop thinking about you, stop caring about you, stop loving you
And you are still like fluid happiness to me
But I'm not drinking sunlight. just pretty poison.
I don't want to love you
Oh, and you don't even know
How your words mean so much to me
When I'm just someone
I wished I could, but I don't want to
Forget you
Just give me a chance
And release me
Because I don't want to feel that high
And I don't want to feel that low
And I don't want you to make me change my mind
About all those things I used to think
And I don't want you to make me feel so lonel
Literature
I do anything for you
Here we stand my love
Where the sun never can touch us
Why do you look at me like that
Is there something that you want to tell me
Is there something that give you pain
My love tell me please
I do anything for you
Give me the pain if you can´t carry it
Let my soul take it
Please help me my love
My soul is weak
Something in the pain is not right
Why my love
Let go of my heart
Let go of my soul
Why do you want to kill me
Why do you let me suffer
I can feel the blood
I can feel your arm in my chest
How you nails are piercing my heart
You can hear my heart screaming
You can feel my heart bleeding
Why my love
I only loved yo
Literature
Probably a Warning Sign
I have a misspent youth:
Days of endless wandering spent in gardens
Crushing daisies beneath my clumsy feet;
Begging for mummy to call in sick for me
Because I didn't care for the shape of the lectern;
Changing beneath tables and flattening my hair
For the occasional run in with a familiar face.
I was a cynical child:
A realist about pessimism and a pessimist about life;
An ingrained sense of right(eousness)
With the final word -
Scorn, if I could choose but one.
Seventeen years has left me a shell
With flesh lined with a thousand 'realist' eyes;
Skin too tight for my ego and too saggy for me to like;
A resting face of 'unwelcome'
(Unapproach
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turbulence.
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