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Heroes (mama and papa)

Heroes (mama and papa)
By Gagne on 11/29/2007
Viewed: 441
Reviews: 1

Code: Chapter One

A child is the future of influence
Becoming a physical parrot.
Monkey see monkey do.
Clean eyes now turned to dirt
And the dust coming out is her tears
Hoping the dust would make you see what she does.

From right now I don’t want to see your face.

I’ve been through hell without even dying
And it was identical to my worst fear.
The fire was only the pain I left burning all my love.
Why should I smile?
The camera will never catch my innocence.

Code: Chapter Two

The terror is crushing down like my triggered mind
Shot to my perceptive heart.
My dearest mouth frightens to speak “ why. “
My memories sundry with what the giants call “A Nightmare.”
Why did God send me to this mortal world?
Suffocating me to the in-craved sin that my heart condemns.
My halo has turned to a horn.

The wings have curved to a fallen ache

Dear God,

I’m sending a postcard from your personal hell you created.
I could almost feel the heavens I was torn away from.
The devilish creature you call, ‘ Sheep ‘ don’t deserve to lick my footsteps.
Extinction is as near.

The wings have curved to a fallen ache.

Code: Chapter Three

Clockwork orange bleeding down the rainbow
And the tears are ventilating the sun.
Not to forget the dishonourable mention of the proclaim stars twinkling on our shattered

The O’clock flashes the even that if my mentality isn’t mendacious it’s called a number.
I touch my glasses and dress it on my eyes
And picked up the forsaken bible and read the first word.
His word were like coming to life,
It was like I was there.
It was like I was the…

… Prisoner who ajared all hell,
I’m the apple Adam's throat bonded upon.
I feel so filthy
The reflection of my crust is enough to make me sick.
Happy endings are now a myth.

Guilt closes in like a final gasp my lungs seem to catch.
The death stench, of my hope,
Pullulating the indistinguishable air.
Who thy I censure for this,
My destined guardian?
Confusion leads to a horrific opinion to the world.

My hands feel like a dagger
Assaulting everything it comes to fulcrums.
And the blood pours in single terms
Like a tear of a perceptive child.
I try to wipe it off but it stayed there like a intractable stain.
The victims and thy have become one.

Dear God,

I stand here for forgiveness.
My heart will never respite in peace till you forgive thy unholy heart.
God why did you bless me with unloving ancestors?
I wish my cell never came out of those spiteful people.
But everything happens for a reason.

All souls this day is a reincarnation of a doomsday


© By Gagne On 11/29/2007 2:07:32 PM
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