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Sitting in a fixed state of isolation. To talk is to mend or rip apart. I'm not so good at mending.
Thought is not an action that people can plainly see on the surface, so it is classified as depth. But you come to learn of it's trivial nature after some time. When you realize you live in a physical existence. A small thought sent into the physical realm for effect, is greater than a large thought kept isolated in mind.
This makes thinkers angry. That it's their world that is not tangible. What if you could not be touched? This is how an artist feels. To be embraced they must create, or be a shadow of some one, who seems to not exist.
A window is a lonely place.
But it seems the detachment creates wisdom. A greater understanding is gained with contact. But logic is lost, at the expense of great pleasure and great pain. Is it to feel, and then to understand, or to understand then feel?
Pain speaks for us sometimes. Given the right circumstances pain will heave out treacherous masterpieces, drenched in ugly truths. God help the pour victim who has to swallow. God bless them if they empathize.
My path squirms like a frequency.
Glory to pain who sent me. Glory to pain who tried to drown me. Glory to death, which I thought to be sweet. Sickness is the challenge. Glory to the gradient of life. A place were brawling against your own nature brings happiness, and being free to do what you want, isn't freedom at all.
So, I found this 50 powerful poetry quotes thing, and I figured I could write a little for the idea of each quote. (The ones I like anyway) My poetry is usually very un poetic lol, or just very raw and unfiltered. I tried to edit a little with these *strugs* put them in there "Sunday clothes".