deepundergroundpoetry.com
``~~..~~``
I don’t share any of my real hurts with the world
Because I like to hide alone in my pain
I don’t write about them, nor give to them name
They are written, but kept in my personal library, just for me
In Private Journals
On my wall, hidden between key books and CD...
```~~~…~~~```
`~I may rant, vent and play around~`
`~when others think am being serious~`
`~Am just playin, You Fukin fools~`
`~Its my sense of humor,~`... jejeje
My most intense love letters, they are kept hidden, with me
Moments of true horrifying encounters
Moments I died alone
True life addictions,
Spiritual encounters
And prophetic visions that have come true, and some still that are waiting
I don’t have any authorization, nor rights yet to write about them
They are kept hidden, written in my personal library of visions, hurt and knowledge
Though the 11 Angles an 3 Volcanoes…
Solar Flares. Tidal waves,
Super fukin scary…
Who, whom can be trusted, knowing the locations of my things,
After the walls have tumbled down
and am left fer deads... Who
Who muther fuker... Who...
You?... you can't even be trusted outside o yer own world,
Por que you come to me still in my livin years?
Because I like to hide alone in my pain
I don’t write about them, nor give to them name
They are written, but kept in my personal library, just for me
In Private Journals
On my wall, hidden between key books and CD...
```~~~…~~~```
`~I may rant, vent and play around~`
`~when others think am being serious~`
`~Am just playin, You Fukin fools~`
`~Its my sense of humor,~`... jejeje
My most intense love letters, they are kept hidden, with me
Moments of true horrifying encounters
Moments I died alone
True life addictions,
Spiritual encounters
And prophetic visions that have come true, and some still that are waiting
I don’t have any authorization, nor rights yet to write about them
They are kept hidden, written in my personal library of visions, hurt and knowledge
Though the 11 Angles an 3 Volcanoes…
Solar Flares. Tidal waves,
Super fukin scary…
Who, whom can be trusted, knowing the locations of my things,
After the walls have tumbled down
and am left fer deads... Who
Who muther fuker... Who...
You?... you can't even be trusted outside o yer own world,
Por que you come to me still in my livin years?
Published 24th Aug 2015
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Anonymous
25th Aug 2015 00:56am
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