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The Truth

Words....are the last thing interpreted inside this problem,
of unjust flames turned black, from burning so long
same old songs sung, which have only begun
but linen sagaciously, from two prodigious beings seen beaming
gleaming in luster called humiliation, through others
invocation the truth just explained deeper insight,
feel my eyes burn with tears outlined in weep
hands twitch to the beat of my hearts dimming trust,
head low, forgotten amongst the flow of serene past mellow
family shouldn't be this way, mother im glad you understand me today,
because nothing else makes me more sad 
hatred colors my path, sycamore street reveries undertone growls
painted white, only red fills the night
jagged streets pave distant cries,
I became the little boy who died inside,
lies converted into passion, thrashing hard at the walls 
covering my face derailing my pace to trace would only be 
the truth.....

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 11/25/2010 9:25:00 PM
This piece was a bit over my head. I'm not sure what message you were trying to convey. The only constructive criticism I can offer is you might want to change the form of your poem. When you let lines run in together it only serves to confuse the reader more. I usually like to end my lines where I want the reader to pause as they read. This helpas give then the rhythm of the poem.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things