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The Printing Press
Alright.. I know I haven't been active and/or very responsive towards others' poetry. For that I am apologetic.. Although, if not time taken to comment, please read. I haven't been able to write in such a long time, this is the first in what appears as ages and I'm just stuck in this mood. If you would care to comment you could leave a link to your poem and I would gladly return the good deed. Keep alive.
The Printing Press
Cold is pressed but never sealed into a breath that never feels. The hopeless felt tip never real will hold a selfish sex appeal. Alluring waste of morbid life. A curing taste, a tortured knife. To be the blade that is to cut is to see the pain that is to come. The ink, the skin, the flesh, the bone. A drink to sink a breath alone. You'll never know my pity. Read your letters, I've wrote you plenty. A mouth kept shut has severed the silence and now left none. So who will fall not far from the tree of knowledge. All were scarred of the seed of homage. Honest to God it's a Socrates apology. If not for you, then all for me. Selfish is held in the palm of resilience. Crushed to a grain of salt and rebuilt with the touch of a stain of fault and guiltless. Though nobody's perfect, I'll prove I'm someone. Who you are to you will lose you loved ones. You loved none.
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What advice do you have for younger kids getting into HXC?
Like I was saying before HC is more than just a music or scene. To me it’s a lifestyle you know. It’s the way you go about your business, caring about yourself, you know, being true to yourself, your family , your peoples, keepin’ it real. - Madball
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