you can't break me
but you can bury me
you can hurt me
but you can't kill me
#poetry i #suppose

#poetry
it was the name of me
that was colder than cumulous clouds
it is the name of me
that was lost, dropped inbetween thoughts
it was the name, was me
who writ all this, but for naught
it is the nameophile
who came to collect my heart

I've left a trail of bodies
once I called them my own
I've left a trail, I know this
but none of us have soul
I'm left behind, a body
my blood pooling below
I'd left behind my body
cries echo still, alone

me

RE: https://tech.lgbt/users/SRAZKVT/statuses/116341927699327122

oh and the "long-gone poet" wasn't intended as such, but, actually fits decently well...huh...
the person who wrote it has, indeed, long gone to the void, replaced with someone else
now that I think of it, it kind of is a farewell letter huh
lol

this is part of a 147-line "poematic.txt" (including empty spacer lines) I wrote once, on-disk timestamps dating creation to 2023-07, and modification to 2024-08

the bracketed parts not part of original
it was very rambling, and extremely lamenting
some parts of it are bad, some are alright, some are good, a few lines more personal, most lines rather general
there's actually even a couple segments separated with "------" lines, even, but I forget if they were added as I made it longer (and worse) over time, or if I added them afterwards, trying to delimit the different themes to own sections, idk

the very last section is but one verse long, silly capstone, nothing more than
------
there's so much I should do
and so much I could do too
and so little I do do
do do do-do-do dooo
------

[you stumble upon some ragged notes of a long-gone poet]

I am an angle
watch how I soar
deep through the depths
and through waters above

I am an angle
plummetting deep
only to soar back
through nights without sleep

near to the angels
far from most hells
I sit in the silence,
in the shards of my shell

potential for power
yet used all for naught
the key to some lock
that is yet to be bought

[there appears to be more, but you can't quite make out most of it]

why is one stuck
in a loop of inaction
wasting their luck
rotting in their own bastion

[there's a lot of unreadable lines]

the tangling rambles of poematic form
illustrate well the turmoil in my soul

the ennui of existence,
rotting of talent,
yet what shall be done
when there's no goal worthy to target?

[you give up reading, as there's barely anything readable, all context is lost]

# the government took my gender

I'm left with all the pain
the image fails to render;
I don't know who I am

the government took his gender
left naked and alone
she is who he could have been
a plain to see woman

the government took its gender
they locked it in a lab
why, would they take it, break it
as if it were a sham

the government took her gender
left bared and all alone
she's crying, trying, fraying
but no one hears a man