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    I feel like I been writing
    Same things all along
    Different words but it seems,
    ‘Tis the same poems
    Others say I’m a bad influence
    ‘Cause I can’t tell whether Hell is real
    They say I have too many questions
    I tell them,
    Questions enlighten more than the answers
    The world is too dark,
    It’s enough that we blind

    What are names?
    I’m trying to fathom tags
    But only tales to spin
    My thoughts are in circles
    Still itching to think straight
    Juggling the world on my shoulders,
    Or perhaps the hands
    A prisoner of me,
    The only way out is in!!
    They said the angel’s to the right,
    The demon to the left,
    Conscience and darkness,
    But I’ll keep both in my hands
    And keep my hands closed

    I escape my shadow
    Books are to me like a meadow
    But I do not know me
    Can no longer find me
    Can no longer stand me
    Loneliness killing I
    Because friends are shoulders,
    I just hanged mine
    Teardrops can flood deserts too
    And Fear cripples legends too
    Perhaps I’m a dead man too
    But who am I?
    What am I?

    Image Credit : WMFA

    Mark Wandera is a freelance writer and a poetry blogger at If he is not writing, you'll find him somewhere reading a book or music and STILL following Game of Thrones. Contact him on [email protected]

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    modern Mom

    Questions do enlighten more than the answers.

    fanuel robert

    I tried to decipher what’s happening to mark wanders the wizard and I got my answers right….He is a true legend in writing of poems and many more….nicenicebruh


    Chaiiii, i feel of the pain you’r passing through,
    i wept till tears made mockery
    of my face to drop no more,
    i remain silent in this ferral turbulence
    shipping my thought on the
    ferry of past battles.
    Baba, you are good try to edit the part
    the line 1 should be*have been*
    till i escape my shadow
    lonileness killing me.but this is thick

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