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Sometimes people will assume your intentions and feelings. Even when you’ve taken the effort to try and explain in the past, they still feel they know what’s in your heart contrary to what truly is there. When this is so, it’s easy to want to prove them wrong (because what is assumed is negative) but really, some things are better left. If you spent all the hours in the day explaining how you feel, nothing is to say the explanation will be appreciated or even understood. So, leave your pure heart to yourself and your piece of mind to fix itself, it will never find solution in the understanding of those who were ignorant.
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I know that you tell yourself you're lonely you try and succumb to disown me only to come back when it gets too much can you not stay away? or, is my only use as a crutch? Worst of all being I just want you to stay
too many questions
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In that look alone it spoke a million love letters, a warmth eluded by all except those in love, that exuded across to one another like telepathy.
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I thought I was in love, but you didn’t understand.
The pervasive layering of uncertainity
amongst harmonious praise in your words
they act as one dimensional
but allude me to present
You are the exit to this labyrinth
does she become so divulged by the fantasy
that perhaps the answers she seeks lay deeper
than your exit clause can offer?
Love: the progressive insubordination
to the depth that goes amiss
when giving up a dimension
in the superficiality of it.
I cannot love you and be objective to the effects of your promise
so the labyrinth beckons
and to its call
what is my reply?
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Call for Reason
Think with your head
Think with your head instead
It may keep you up at night now,
when your heart bled, and it still bleeds
But you will be at rest.
In the end, in the light and not the cave
plato and internal quest.
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On love
The flaw of loving too much
showing it not enough I’m losing touch
crying and feeling my life on a final clutch
that I have no humanity
then too much it drives me to insanity
everything I do analysed as profanity
I’m tired
But I want more.
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On the unknown
To plateau or to soar
to places I have not yet been before
places my heart thought of as only lore
due to the instability of the flaw
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La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Marc Fishman
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المسامح كريم
“Almusamih Kareem”, The forgiver is generous.
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The work requires little comment. It is a psychoanalyst's feast with its display of emotional immaturity, dreams of glory, and sense of superiority combined with a desperate awareness of inferiority in some areas, with aggression coupled to a curiously mawkish sensibility, and total self-obsession
Adam Zamoyski, Napoleon A Life, discussing Napoleon’s novel ‘Clisson et Eugénie’
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for all the excessive nature of my speech, whom in this lifetime will find this quality as likened to their own? Hyperbole (and nothing more than a superficial mannerism shrouding a little deeper meaning) but vague hyperbole is subject to multifaceted conceptualization- all I'm asking for is someone who favours these things, if only they could find my love for them too, under an opaque surface which is the only one available to the world.
confusion
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I have many desires, but my inhibition proves to be an overly enamoured heart whose ambition shoots among the cosmos but its enactment on such desires slumbers on the lowly ground.
It makes me wonder, have I really been moving at all?
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He was shaken by the overwhelming revelation that the headlong race between his misfortunes and his dreams was at that moment reaching the finish line. The rest was darkness. "Damn it", he sighed, 'how will I ever get out of this labyrinth!"
Simon Bolivar’s last words
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