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Poems by Naut1000


The day she yelled, it was like a crucifixion,
her eyes pierced my own and tore a hole through my head,
I felt her peering in, scraping the inside of my skull
as if to get the last scrap of thought I had left,
she mentally overpowered me forcing me to submit,
a cancerous being stuck like a tumour inside the head,
almost like a parasite feeding off your wills and dreams as if she was incapable of having her own,
truly a beast, dissecting me as if the pain eased her own,
and to think I once loved such a being,
and yet when her taste is not satisfied,
she pulls up dull blunt memories and laces them with acid,
she'll change and manipulate until they're sharp like nails,
then drives them back into your skull controlling you like a RC robot,
happiness in slavery



The evening falls and I'm alone in this place, the greyest of tombs the blackest of nights, my life
inside the gates of what I call home, My souls rests in the dark alone, weary of my lives place and
shamed at my self for losing face, my own heart torn in two, hand in hand because of you, driving your
hate into me like nails, and purging me with lies and when everything fails, you come up close and kiss
with tender lips, my hate is drowned and i'm falling into her abyss, she controls me now and I fear I
will never turn, the cemetery, is where my love yearns



Soft September skies laced with the dull blue backdrop of the winter suns shine, the coldness of the
later september breeze freezes my legs and arms as I shut my eyes, the thoughts of child hood memories
remain, and all the youth my soul regains living those humble pasts, and hoping to make them last, my
world left open to happiness and joy, and in the end it's the memories I destroy



I saw her in her pale figurement,
she was adorned on a gravestone as I as I was fixed onto her eyes
I was lost in paralysis,
her soft lips were pale and comfortable,
she was in black as she always was,
yet I've never met her before,
she comes in my dreams,
as a figure of beauty her movements are tranquil and her grace compliments her gestures as she would,
her attire a portrait of her beauty, not a statement but an artwork,
her face is pale, her eyes of there grey color
her arms are soft and long,
her fingers thin and her nails are long and masked by black polish,
she was frail yet strong,
she was beautiful,
a figure of hopefulness,
she's their when despair sets in,
I awake into my dream from sleep and in her arms,
my world goes numb,
I hold her tight,
I say good night,
I'm warmest and happiest here



When I die, do I then make a difference?
Do I then die?
Or do i live on?
but i'm dead.

only in death shall my deeds be blessed.
only in death will my words make a difference.



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Biographical sketch: I'm a Canadian, I like life and hate it. I enjoy gothic things, I like cemetaries and such. My greatest thing is my heart. I share it with those willing to share thiers. I enjoy radiohead and repect well writen lyrics.

Naut1000 recommends:

The Fragile, lyric book by Trent Reznor
Reason: It has emotions and feelings. I can relate, Thats why it is special to me. What he writes about a

Recommendations for writers:

The most important thing is being passionate and true about what you write, never hold back and never give more then whats their. After all your telling it from the soul



 


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