A ghost in my system

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that moans deep,

asks for sleep.

That never dies,

as soon my i open my eye.

Is it me,

or is it inside me that can

and will me love an undying one,

that will never stop.

coz this one

gloats

floats,

until the clothes meddle

under the doobie that

scooby and shaggy,

they will not stop until, no more scooby snack.

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Aah my sweet Chiron,

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Let me be my own Herakles,

as you watch me grow,

upon and unto your eyes;

yet when the crucial time that is ripe I am free

of your training,

of your edifications,

of your love you gave. . .

In one swoop my Icarus wings are built,

fascination will be my own downfall,

and I would fall,

so shall it be then,

I will plummet but rise into mine own.

The joy of sorrow

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it does not have to be,

it does not want to.

For if it was written,

one dirge comes first before the thirst: then it follows.

another deluge cometh; yet rainbows of promises are on the way.

So please don’t wallow, subscribe to your soul and follow

where its asking you to slowly smile,

look up then after you’d know there is no place you would rather be.

Ryhme & Metre : Tah – Uh

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Then it was written at the part of my history,

Now thus the life I have to taste,

Of this abysmal ryhming of monotoned glory.

🀘πŸ’ͺ🀘πŸ’ͺπŸ™‰πŸ™ˆπŸ™‰πŸ™ˆπŸ˜₯😣😏😎😎😎

@rtsydhude c17j6

πŸ™„πŸ˜ΆπŸ€πŸ™„πŸ˜ΆπŸ€πŸ™„πŸ€˜πŸ’ͺπŸ€”πŸ˜ŽπŸ˜ŽπŸ˜ŽπŸ™‰πŸ™ˆ

Ryhme & Metr3: Ha-e-lah

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Ther3 is a cloud

among clear skies,

It is barking up

a storm.

Why of all things

does it cry?

Becaus3 in my eye,

a pressure so severe

it does do nothing but form.

πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰πŸ˜ŽπŸ˜ƒπŸ˜ŽπŸ˜ƒπŸ˜πŸ˜€πŸ˜£πŸ˜πŸ˜£πŸ˜πŸ˜‡πŸ˜‡πŸ˜‡

Pen and paper

pencil

May 2017 @rtsydhude