Deep in vernal darkness with burdened heavy wings,
I cant see him but I know hes out there,
Although the night obscures him from my desperate stare,
He still sings proudly without a fools care,
And as I lay within wonder, in my empty bed,
I wonder if hes as afraid as me,
As afraid of the night, as he spends it alone,
And sad like a flower, so woefully grown,
He sings alone so sure and patient,
Waiting for some answer,
And in the arms of sleep I wonder further,
If he wears a mask of actions like me,
Fending off sadness so fraudulently,
And hes still singing,
Night after night I imagine his flight,
And I still dont hear a response to his pleading song,
And imagine him questioning what hes doing wrong,
This ritual becoming so poetically trite,
And these nights becoming farther and farther from right,
Outside my window the mockingbird sings,
Enshrouded in the melancholy the vernal darkness brings,
The night keeps our true selves a mystery unseen,
And as far away from ourselves and our loves as we ever have been.
~By Nick Sgandurra









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Now testify, it's right outside our door.
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"why yes i am a damsile, im in distress, i can handle this,have a nice day."
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Remember, remember the fifth of November
V for Vendetta
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I am the type of girl that when my feet hit the floor in the morning the devil shakes and says, " Oh Shit she is awake! "
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"why yes i am a damsile, im in distress, i can handle this,have a nice day."
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"why yes i am a damsile, im in distress, i can handle this,have a nice day."
--
"why yes i am a damsile, im in distress, i can handle this,have a nice day."
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The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle. (Anais Nin)
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