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  • croesus 1w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 8 word one-liner on Sibling

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    Its my turn, but love is never fair.

  • croesus 1w

    Pace the cage

    Spreading your wings will only fill the limited spaces and the abundance taken from you, that was given by nature.
    The vast sky has been handed to the forces of destruction and waste.
    Undone has become understanding, and we now breath the suffocation of captivity.

    Living as a constant shortness of breathe will place a hold on the wings of any creature whom was made to have them.

    Back and forth until your steps give into believing that they are at end.
    What joy could be imagined from a creature of the sky being forced into a confined, solid, and definate space.
    Walking, dreaming, then ultimately forgetting why it was dreaming.

    Turn around, there is not space enough for another step.
    Walls and cages become screams that sound over the peaceful whispers of desire.

    Wings are meant to possess the air itself, and behold all of the infinite skies.

    Is a creature, from nature kept, to itself, truly living death?
    Is the captor the one who decides for the captive, that it can still believe it is alive?
    Can a captive be forced to live, although they believed to themselves that they have already died?

    Its all a state of mind, believing what is to be real and deciding what to observe.
    Nature made up its mind when the wind pressed the wings and feathers to fly.
    An unimaginable capacity of flawless design before our very eyes.
    We recieve the gift of life, and in return, we gave it a cage.
    ©croesus

  • croesus 10w

    The Sin of The Scribe

    A scribe without a pen is a sin.
    Who else could tell how your view felt while you were becoming who you've ever been.
    The scribe makes the only traces of anyones voice using words with wind.
    Every scribe yields part of our whole history within the the unspilled ink of their pen.
    Truly, who can make any utterance of humanities interpertable resounding, but you.
    It's the sole responsibility of the scribe to create a record of our vibrational impact within the very consciencenes of the observable universe.
    Your elevated intentness has given you this inspire laden with burden.
    I herby declare that a scribe whome withholds word, coincides with an exceedingly more universal order of sin.
    We concede to find words with an actual reason to defend.
    ©croesus

  • croesus 12w

    Guidance

    Leave it be and don't say a thing.
    The, I can't judge anyone mentality.

    B: So you didn't say anything?

    A: It wasnt my place. I can't judge someone based on how they project their personal affliction, nor their errors in direction.

    B: So who is qualified to lend a helpful word of insight?

    A: The only one who can truly help them is themselves. Usually the only outside individuals who would have any persuasive impact, are the very cause of their oppression.

    B: Wouldn't casting this individual aside become a foundation for casting many more multitudes aside as well?

    A: Their are many that simply cannot be helped.

    B: Well, I object...

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    ©croesus

  • croesus 12w

    Yeildin

    Peoples, spans of empires, eras, countless generations, into the present, and projected to thrive through the future beyond our inkling of a lifespan.

    People have been yeilding to their imagination in response to being in awe of their very existence.

    This void of understanding gave an opportunity for corruption to infect our entire human population on a foundationally mental level.

    This projection that we all have imagined is named GOD. We have been snarred and driven by the reins that we call religion.

    Convert from understanding your union with the infinity of the universe, so that you can believe in what you can only imagine.

    Give your concent to this self possessing entity. Yield your soverinty in the name of some passionate conviction that you pledge to.
    ©croesus

  • croesus 16w

    Prayer of the Prey

    I ment that prayer from the bottom of everything I thought that I had.

    Prayer hasnt ever worked for me.
    I did exactly what they told me.

    I've tried sealing my hands together air tight.
    I've tried with my arms stretched out in surrender.
    I've closed my eyes as if I wer about to blow a birthday candle out, the size of the Olympic torch.
    I bowed my head in reverence, like a unending oriental greeting.
    This is how I was taught to ask.
    How I was told to pray when I feel like the lions next prey.
    Hands and knees on the floor, pleading in desperation.
    I layed with my face flat to the ground, prostrate.
    Lonely tears soaked my shirt, then they slowly began to puddle on the floor.
    All I felt was the cause of every raw feeling.
    The help that they had for me wasn't at all healing.
    Everything and everyone gave me nothing, Not one single life line for me to try and make believe.

    I do believe.
    I believe in the silence, the absence, and the frozen bite of solitude.
    I was told to ask the silence and expect an answer.
    I believed in that silence, and now I truly believe in the silence.

    -Close.
    ©croesus

  • croesus 16w

    Lovishly

    Love is proof, passion, and power.
    Yet, above all things, love is your imagination.

    One of your creations which resides nearer to your passive affections.
    Your interpretation breathes life into your idea of emotion.

    The line between love and hate is lawless and has no bounds.
    Love has become the residual desire of all separations.
    The preservation of love leads to acts of hate.
    As a dragon hordes gold, which wasn't born to him and will also remain far past his days.

    Nature is a woman, and Love is a mar of man.
    ©croesus

  • croesus 20w

    You do

    You don't have it because you don't know that you do.
    ©croesus

  • croesus 21w

    Fiendish

    I Felt, I am feeling, and I fortel that I will feel fiendish.
    Friend without "r", friends are no more.
    The swift transition into fiend.

    Being born on this earth, I am entitled to want, to desire, and to have.
    Our existence has become so thoroughly broken of all its virtue, evil has found grace within us.
    The worship of fiends will create a nation of fiends, that will gladly fullfill their works.
    We have all been gluttons for conquest, capitalism, and corruption.
    Denying your role in the affliction will give you nothing.

    If someone is made to hurt for my comforts in this hell, it helps.
    My shame flaunts its carnal beauty.
    My vertue hides in its defeated hideousness.
    I have revised my ethical understandings and copacities.
    By my own conviction, I have re envisioned my wants into my needs.
    Something that is completely well, I may see it as broken, and something completely broken, I may see it as well.
    How courageous of me, to confront conformity.
    I am able to command my will unto an onslaught upon my compassion.
    This I have done, I maintain doing, and I will do.
    Of coarse I do not know what the future truly holds, but I do know my desire.
    The fuel for my desire is truly abundant, I even wish it could be more.
    Until I am able to look into the mirror and see a reflection of something that is more valuable, I will disenchant the meaning of the words, good and evil.
    The fiendish can change reality through the vexation of others.
    No longer for mankind, becoming less of mankind, inevitably becoming the adverssary to mankind.
    ©croesus

  • croesus 23w

    Responsibility

    What is responsibility, if not your ability to respond.
    We all have the ability to respond, therefore we all are responsible.
    You can be non responsive, but you have responsibility.


    Responding to someones need, and not only to the desire we are made to believe.
    Do we all face the tragedy of not knowing the true meaning of responsibility.
    ©croesus