The Cynic Communtity

 Child of soil ~Miss A How could I let my self esteem grow, When I know I have been registered as a child of soil. Read somewhere a ravishing quote,  That women take after thier mother's but men don't.  But I guess I'm tough too, for I take after neither, Rather I take after the shadows lurking in the dark. Might they be sceptical, might they be the host of my jury, But whatever it is, it will be a mistake by self, not agony. I'm not scared by heights, neither am I of depth, But I am getting taken back by the way rage emerges. I've never seen such emotion in my eyes,  For I am a chaser of dreams, not a taker of hatred. I heard hate swallows you, doesn't seem like a bluff, I have always tried to be liberal, but stones do pluck. Hoping this was all, but sadly hope still lingers, I'm a practitioner of silence, didn't you see me glimmer. I taught love, but in a way that only demands tears, Where I'd rather tie my tongue with a ribbon. I crave it all, and

Lost in eminence ~Miss A  Aren't we meant to be together? Givin' me all the happiness, I think I deserve. I don't remember telling you the meaning of what CDS mean, But I guess you know it symbolizes a Cold Distant Silence tree.  Even while embracing the sun, which shines so witty, I sense a deem of highlight in the flakiness drowning the sky rainy. Cold and in meaning blue, shades that engulf me stays new, Brightenin' lime was supposed to be my color, but my tones developed nude.  I'm drenched in all the love, I once felt enclosed, eyes closed in the matrix, But if I had to feel those trinkets of drop revved negative, I'd always know grey. Once again, all refined against the CDS to the depth, naming all the bad dreams best, I'd know me, but this time instead of staring at me from a distance, true, lost in eminence. What I trace so immersed, is like a drop of blood crept against the fingertip, from a needle, Bubbly and running, beautiful, vivid and enchantin