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»Tourette Syndrome - The fruits«

by Ryan John Cremore, May 18, 2015

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;

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;
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.

Written: May 2015
Tags: Anger Hate Sad Solitude

The © Copyright to this poem is owned by the author.
Published by writerslounge.net on May 18, 2015 under courtesy of the author.


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