Cinquain Girl Poems | Cinquain Poems About Girl
These Cinquain Girl poems are examples of Cinquain poems about Girl. These are the best examples of Cinquain Girl poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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longing for sweet
just one more year
I’m influenced by sickness and death. Watching something decompose before my eyes is quite the spectacle. It’s in my nature. Ruin. Collapse. Always enjoyed watching something die. Should have gone into politics. People enjoy watching creation more than watching destruction. Those people obviously differ from you and me. As above, so below. You can’t have light without darkness. At times the light fades and the serpent keeps eating its own tail caring not for whose tears will be shed by tomorrow’s wake. Sometimes I wish I had no feelings towards anything on this planet so I couldn’t get sucked into the bullshit hype of things. If you have no friends, you attend no funerals. But what’s the point? If you never risk it to make friends or to make love, you can’t have those memories or experiences. The pain of loss is worth it and is only felt because you risked losing something if not everything one day. The more it hurts, the more it meant to you and that’s a great come up in your life. Because life is many experiences of “right now moments”. It’s constantly “Right now”, the past is gone and the future isn’t here yet. So there is only right now. This sentence is my “right now”, and because I put forth the effort, I created it. Live for the “Right now”, and never regret. The only regret you should feel is falling prey to a mistake you’ve already made once before. Learn from them, move on, never regret. Nobody wants to read an autobiography about someone who never took chances and never left the house. Great suffering develops great knowledge and strength. I’ve felt the pain of hunger so I now love to work for what’s mine and am not picky when it comes to food. I have learned to truly appreciate these things in life and it makes me smile to see my scars and think of their origins. Again, I love to watch things die. It’s animal. I’ve always felt like I was blind in the wilderness. Left to wander aimlessly. I have no real purpose other than to accidently see or do something at that right possible moment. Serendipitous. I’m a perfect cluster fuck of ruin and blossom, rot and harvest. I am a man. As above, so below. I’ve only scratched the surface of my power. For as a man I’m still very much a child wielding his father’s gun. Lost in oblivion.
Yes children, it’s that kind of morning, cigarette smoke in your eyes, throat hoarse from mourning. Those long intense stares at yourself in the mirror seem to go on and on. The world sleeps on your porch like a stray dog. Reeking of foul plague, .struggling to breathe. I want you to stay, stay in your grave. Haunted lovers so cold and depraved. I like my women boneyard scarred. The phantom resides atop the climax, and lingers in a fog. My heart of scar tissue. My heart a burn victim. Disfigurement. A rock star death is too late at 28. I know too much. I want you to stay in your grave. The flowers are atonement for my departure. Closure is a dirty knife. Past remnants of love in a jar. A new home of soil. Go down slow and decay as all things do. I want you to stay. I want you to stay in your grave. I mourn you. The lost. No hope for a leper. Don’t invite the dead in your bed., cuz now you know too much.