exploitedsole

Passing Like Ships In The Night, There Is No Color Here

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  • exploitedsole 11w

    #WritingContest

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    Perfect

    Hopes soar on wax wings, don't let them get to high. Because before you know it you'll be plummeting from the sky. This is why you should never chase perfection, because it will strike you down. And once you have a chance to look, you'll see perfection can't be found. So spread those wax wings but keep your expectations fair because that glowing "perfection" in the sky is nothing but a snare.

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 12w

    Perfect

    Hopes soar on wax wings, don't let them get to high. Because before you know it you'll be plummeting from the sky. This is why you should never chase perfection because it will strike you down. And once you have a chance to look you'll see perfection can't be found.

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 12w

    #WritingContest

    Participate in writing contests hosted in the Creative Arena.

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    Frustration

    All my life I've looked at words as though they were unattainable. Something that was not meant for me. The tools of the expressive. But AHAHAHAH! That’s all I can seem to muster a frustration unparalleled by any other unable to express myself in any way that would do it justice. so many feeling so many ideas locked away but no words to set them free even as I sit here and write this hopping that by some miracle of a god I don't believe in that something anything would find its way from mind to page so I could finally feel some sense of absolution, feel some connection to the world around me but no, my mind the jail the words its prisoners. A stoic persona cultivated by a misunderstood social expectation and harvested by a lost boy growing into a distorted man. A man unable to exact even the most basic form of expression lost in a world that demands the very thing that that lost boy spent so much time trying to suppress, thinking that by doing so he would not have an obligation to the world he lived in, thinking that he would never need to express himself in any meaningful way and finally realizing the horrendous blunder he had made. I the lost boy the distorted man lost in a sea of thought with no words to cling on to for safety or reassurance drowning in the unexpressed hoping for the words to come but knowing they never will.

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 12w

    #WritingContest

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    What I Will Never Have

    My eyes are heavy and the time is late but my mind is loud and I can not wait. So I write, I write because my voice is weak and my story heavy. The subtle nuances lost in the incoherent babbling of a mind rushing to get out. The pen affording the mind time to calm the crashing waves. I have no more tears they all fell a long time ago dried up in the desert of constant worry. An imposter to my self pretending to be strong but to what end. I try to explain that all I want is to be loved and you say that I am. I say not in that way and you say you understand. But there is no understanding here. Your understanding comes from a place of privilege, you have been loved in this way. Your self worth has already been affirmed time and time again by a partner who's love is unconditional. Forced to watch I'm surrounded by love but I have none for my self. That has been taken from me or rather stripped away from years of neglect. I trusted you. You said you loved me. Those words turned out to be empty and they remain empty for me to this day. Trust is a fragile thing the very thing you shattered when you walked out of my life. I, left with an uncertainty of why you would hurt me this way. You, gaining what I will never have.

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 13w

    #WritingContest

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    We are both broken but our jagged edges fit together perfectly

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  • exploitedsole 13w

    Outcast

    A misfit in my own mind I do not belong here. My thoughts sit in silent judgment. While I kneel cowering in fear. The silence is most deafening. And my thoughts they are most cruel. They pass their judgment quickly and label me a fool. I try to defend myself from this treason before my thoughts can banish me from reason. But there is no winning here, my thoughts they are abrasive. And when they cast me out they are also quite persuasive.
    Where do I go from here, my thoughts are of no help now. I start walking down the road of darkness furrowing my brow. A faint red glow pierces through, lighting up my way, bathing me in warmth, and beckons me to play. I've made it to my heart and this is where I'll stay. My mind never cared for me much anyway.
    I've been in the dark for so long that the light is overwhelming but I've finally found my place and my heart is much more welcoming.

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 13w

    #WritingContest

    Participate in writing contests hosted in the Creative Arena.

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    Sing Our Song

    Life is hard but we're still living.
    The threads of fate are true.
    And even though it's difficult at least I'm here with you.
    This tapestry we've made together may be filled with holes.
    But weave into me my love and the stitches they will hold.
    The edges may be fraying and we may feel we're losing ground.
    But life is hard and at least we're still around.
    Our story isn't over yet.
    Our thread's of fate are long.
    And when we finally run out the bards will sing our song.

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 13w

    #WritingContest

    Participate in writing contests hosted in the Creative Arena.

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    December

    Delicately the snow falls creating shimmering dunes.
    Enveloping the world as if it were the surface of the moon.
    Creatures slumber in their homes.
    Elapsing time they wait for summers warming tones.
    Moonlight casting a subtle blueish glow.
    Beaming through the night
    Embers burning low snuffing out the bright but,
    Reminiscing about happier times does brings back the light.

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 14w

    This Is a repost of my contest entry with some edits since you can't edit contest submissions

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    My Final Day

    The flowing grains of time are rough, like sand paper, tearing at my bones. Leaving me with nothing more than a few malignant groans. But as the fire in my eyes slowly turn to ember, I look back at what I had with a mind much less limber. My soul bewitched. I wish I had taken time to enjoy every single stich. But my life's tapestry has come to an end and the edges have begun to fray, but I chose to remember you on this my final day. 

    ©exploitedsole

  • exploitedsole 14w

    #WritingContest

    Participate in writing contests hosted in the Creative Arena.

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    My Final Day

    The flowing specks of time are rough, like sand paper, tearing at my bones. Leaving me with nothing more than a few malignant groans. But as the fire in my eyes slowly extinguish, I look back at what I had, my soul bewitched. I wish I had taken the time to enjoy every single stich. But my life's tapestry has come to an end and the edges have begun to fray, but I chose to remember you on this my final day.

    ©exploitedsole