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Click hereswollen winter
held between my hands
gives little comfort
against the cold wind
rising to strike me down
wheres and whiles and whys
uncertaintly I stand
divided i fall
the american dream
is always first person
alone and male
strange, huh?
but we always have
just the littlest of smiles
when it’s their turn to cry.
in the end
my ends are justified
as i intend
to hold the scale
i did what i did
to get all I got
what’s wrong with wanting
in what ever lonely corner
that you find your hell
if you see my intentions
pack them up and send them home
I need them to make
a homespun shadow of my conscience
nows all I need a compass
for to carry me back
I stumble forward
as mana with amnesia
uncertain not only of what he has done
but also the terror of not knowing why
I don't have time to comment on all your poems, but they are very good. You have an old soul, and it shows it your poetry. Wisdom. :)