What brings you to the poetic side if the world
I just write until the cows come home. I also draw stuff
I also play guitar, as well as a bit of drums
>>> What brings you to the poetic side if the ...
Poetry was never a choice; it’s the echo of things felt but never spoke
It lives where reason fades and the soul takes over
And such a GC must be alive
>>> I also play guitar, as well as a bit of drums
Share some talent ha
This was one of the many things I sketched up for one of my poems
That’s the pic from .44 calibre love letter.
I should've clarified it's not originally my idea, but rather a slight reimagining of the idea
You revamped lyrics and made a newish sketch? Either way it does look cool. I love that song and the pic I was like wait a tic
>>> Thats a good reason
Ofc it is
And I still dk why is this gc kinda dead
It has had its ups and downs over the years but the last few years people just dont come here anymore
Interest in literature seems to have faded over time, but its magic never truly disappears perhaps it just needs a new spark to reignite
When the world turns around and the electric pulse of the world shuts down literature will come back
Literature never truly leaves; it simply waits in the shadows, ready to rise when the noise of the world fades
I am a leader of a revolution that never existed, my mind fractured in full delusion sick and twisted.
Bloodshot eyes and sleepless nights, battling the lies and what seams right.
I am a failure in my own mind, more then a little broken and a gesture held together by twine.
To the world my smile screams yes im fine, yet below it steams with out a spine.
With out control I am silent alone, releasing the pressure a whole unknown.
I am a product of what you made, alone I stand until death and grave.
Even though you your not alone, alone is where your most at home. Its not the fact their not around, you see their face their very sound; always there or say they are.. but in the end your distant far.
In your head a world away, in the darkest deepest place. Where nothing breathes but the tears of silent water solace fears.
Face the facts on where you stand, no guiding light or reaching hand. Strong for all of those around, silent, quiet , with out a sound.
Just remember who you are; a substation rental car.. on a trip for all to reach,Their place on earth where they are free.
I came here to share a poema but now i'm afraid
