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Similar Deviations
I wanted to grow old with you
and go through thick and thin.
Together enjoy our pension age,
Just we two.
Its so hard now to remember,
though I know we share so many.
Memories for me too painful,
to ponder on any.
I get through each day somehow,
I´m grateful for your love,
which even tho you´re no longer here,
pours on me from above.
So rest in peace my lovely man.
I miss you everyday.
I´m thankful to have been the one,
you chose to be your woman.

A poem by Suzanne Karbach
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Death lingered behind his eyes,
ruthless his lips edged up
in a killers smile,
it was the moment
he awaited
while his prey
lie blissfully unaware.

Stillness absolute
a heart beat
was the only sound,
while the shadow
prepared to descend
with the swiftness
of a falcon.

Blood paints the darkness
of the night, not even a scream,
it is true what they say
you can die within your dreams,
for what was he
but a phantom unseen,
a death dealer who will
take flight with your life
while you sleep.

He is gone
even before the very last
breath can be drawn
but he never leaves a doubt
none escapes from his
talon's grasp.
:iconthemesofhorror:

"Assassination"
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The rage of imagination that riots in my head
is drenched in a spectrum of colors in a notebook by my bed.
How can I translate my insanity on paper
if my mind knows no reality than it's own creator?
5a.m. scribbles from last night.^^
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the boy next to me just died
but he pressed play again and started
to chase his tail across a screen of purple blocks.
five seats away, a girl is trying to draw a human heart.
another girl is trying to finish her test.

"this class ends at 2 and it is 1:55."

the boy next to me has given up and
is checking his e-mail, while still others
pull out their computers to start clicking
away at letters that will never fade.

i am sitting here, wondering how to tell my mother
her sister tried to commit suicide.

some people say that an umbrella turned upwards
is a sign of bad luck, but there is a lot of bad luck
that has to do with umbrellas
so i just want to stand out in the rain
and deal with wet clothes and no bad luck
but no good luck either.

people ask kids what they want to be when they grow up.
(an astronaut, loved, a cowboy, a doctor, happy)
no one ever asks what they want to be
when they die. i guess the answer is obvious:
remembered.

i like reading poems
from the end to the beginning
so i can get the message and
come away changed even if i never finish the poem.

i wish i could stop making metaphors about
trees and motivational posters and ripped up books and
life and poems and red hunting hats
but i can't because
my mother's sister tried to commit suicide last night

and maybe i did too.
i
don't really
know anymore.

i'm so sorry.
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I dare not make a sound
I dare not raise my voice
Peering into the dark
That lies in front of me
What will come out next,
I wonder,
To grab my cold bare ankle
And drag me into Hell?
A rustling noise-
I tense-
And the lights turn back on
You stand there, arms open-
I run into them-
And scream.
Your hands on my throat,
Your face twisted in a smile
And the darkness
claims another victim
*shrugs* Nothing to say.
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