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Condition Of My HeartThe first time he saw her on the dance floor, he was mesmerized; drawn in by her fluid movements and the curves of her body. She seemed to shimmer, like a distant cosmos. He had to know more; he wanted to become one of them, the epitome of style, out there spinning on the floor. He decided to take that chance, he would go, talk to her, introduce himself, become part of their world.
Soon after that, they became the best of friends, as if it was their destiny. They seemed to just fit. But then something went wrong. She felt that her life was unraveling in her hands; she felt that all hope was lost; she just wanted to disappear. But he refused to let go, 'it'll all get better' he swore. He tried, hard as he could, to save her. He finally became one of them, with all the ambition that his new love had given him. Yet it was not enough, it was too late.
When he hea
Hope -2-I look up as I button my dress,
Through the crack we call a window.
The barren landscape stares back at me.
A hell on earth.
I falter at the last button...
"Will today be the same as every other day?"
I reach to stroke my long hair,
But then, I remember; It isn't there anymore.
I finish the last button.
I gaze out the window once more.
And pray to God:
"Please save me from this hell"
I walk out the door with my hands clasped.
Out to the daily roll-call.
"What did I do to deserve this fate?"
I mutter to myself.
I hear my number called,
I hear him yell it at the top of his lungs,
And I know that today I will join my father.
GloryStolen from their innocence
And drowned into a pool of hate
What they thought was glory
Was all just a falsification
Filled with these lies
They followed blindly
Without their own will
Flying on fake wings
They believed whatever they were told
Heil Hitler, Hate Jews
And anyone who is different
Unlike them, the master race
Aryan, pure, dominant
But it was all false, impure, lies
They took it all in
For the glory of their Fuhrer
The glory of the master race
And the glory of their country
A Sunrise of HopeThe day started beautifully, a picture perfect sunrise over the endless horizon; the sky was tinged with hints of blue, purple, pink, red, orange, and yellow. It was absolutely gorgeous, the sunrise was so beautiful that I wished that it were palpable, to reach out to it and put it in a jar, preserve it forever. Suddenly, I heard the single beat of a war drum, and it despoiled the moment. I snapped back to reality, to the war-torn nation, I looked around, it seemed that all the felicity had been winnowed away, to the point where no one had any hope at all. Everyone had a dolorous look in their eye, as if their souls had been benighted and faded away. I walked around quietly, as not to disturb the soldiers sleeping on the ground, I looked at their guns, which in my mind, are an execration to society, anything that causes death is a curse on us. One of man's primal urges is to kill, but our lives are far from primal now, thanks to all our technological claptrap, we no longer live in cave
HopeEveryone has those moments.
When they feel life isn't worth living anymore.
She walked down the stairs, tears falling silently from her eyes.
Dinnertime, her stomach cried, but her mind disagreed.
She wiped away the tears, so she could see what there was to eat.
The house was silent, no one home.
Another meal, alone.
After eating something small and insignificant, just to soothe her stomach, she went to take her daily vitamins.
She shook the bottle gently, but more than one pill spilled on the table.
She closed her eyes.
Entranced, she thought to herself, just for a fleeting moment.
"What would happen if I just took all of these?"
"Would it hurt?"
Tears streamed down her face again, but just for another short-lived moment.
Suddenly, something knocked her out of her trance.
The comforting sounds, sounds of sweet music, snaking their way downstairs, into her ears.
Do you know why it rains?
That's because, someone prays that
Ever since she could remembe
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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