For jealousy, no not,
Envy, grips, murders who
forms it in school; not the ones in,
Maguindanao. Shackles down
the esteem, of disposition,
now gone by envy; melt then
Bullfrog! Beachy, modifying,
the sands I was trying to
mold. You, the quicksand, does
it better; drains all the positivity, of,
world's free energy spirits. Gone,
to bed then drank milk; but someone's
disturbed, -- nothing else-- insomniac?
Could not grip out; cannot be
iron-clamped out.
Something people
speak; says it could lead to tumor, a
formed stone for the envious;
from their envy, excruciating to
be carried; and how they're known;
the boy named Envy grows to an adult
nicknamed Anger-
hatred!
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The feel when you write psychological verses, it puts you on the verge of breaking down metaphorically. While, you see, it is very biased, it's just my answer for myself and primarily for the one who puts me on the edge of death-inducing negativity (even though that one doesn't do any harm). When I look at it, it is somewhat uplifting, a polemic for envy that gets in your way like a drug in your bloodstream. But fight it. I'm currently fighting it, yet the cognitive reaction in the process of fighting it led me to something more disastrous: being sad while you know you're happy fighting it. Traumatic, I say, and this may lead to another product; as this feeling may not come in fighting something alone, it can come from many joyful sources. They are all forces, that make our mind's gears rotate.
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Forces That Made Us Thinking
PoetryA celebration of free poetic expression of the sensible and the nonsensical life where invisible forces push and pull our ever-expressive beings.