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Best Poems Written by Ryan Cremore

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Tourette Syndrome - the Fruits

No where is where it is – can't be found, so there
No where is where it goes just sits and waits for your despair
Scratching your inner most private thoughts, with words of hunger and sadistic retorts
Knaving away like a millstone on corn, destroying your life before you were born
Decrepit recitals of words unknown, ends in manifestations of an evil moan
How quickly life runs into a place of envy, seeing the fruit but being judged
unfriendly
Everything ends in tantrums of despair, while others milk the honey without a
little care
Looks of hatred and mistrust and fear; grabs at the audience with an innermost tear
Although caring and humbled when they are told, they flock to safety before
walking the road
And loneliness sets in as always before, more patience will be given to a cursed street whore
Everyday brings with it a cocoon of lies, eating at your soul without demise
Acceptance goes past and withers away, too scared to admit and to frail to stay
I ponder the thoughts of many a men, and stand silent, alone for I cannot
pretend
A close knit love group defining my present, with a swagger of fear determining my descent
How beautiful the words of a stranger can be, when all he does is to see but me
It lightens my load and takes away the thought, while fighting the urge and
waiting for a retort
It happens so often that people grow cold, thinking I want this, pretending I'm
bold
A fallen being lying in wait, listening for redemption but its always so late
Listen now little one for I mean you no harm, but run before the evil strikes and I must live in this qualm
There is no life inside of me that cries out anymore, there is only a shell of a
person that once was but is no more
My insides have been shredded, my life put on a show
And everywhere I swagger, my evil all will know
Unjustified some might cry for I did not ask for this, yes I will say unjustified but born in the abyss
Never underestimate the power of a soul, never ever question someone whether his empty or partly whole
The answer you may not like the person you may hate, But know that he will
accept this as he knows his destructive fate
And as the sun pretends to rise even on someone like me, I long back to the
darkness for there I could still flee
But now the show starts once again and I must take my place, to entertain the evil and hide my forbidden face
So grasp the life that flows from you and be thankful for your mind, for my day is but a millstone, my life for it to grind.

Copyright © Ryan Cremore | Year Posted 2022




Book: Reflection on the Important Things