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far *** ye ben,
ma closest freen.
ah did nae see ye.

files ah forget fit ah maun act aroon ye.
ye aye despised meh ben fran.
an fit cwid ah iver blame ye.
affen ah feel the same aboot ma ain decrepit hert.
ah miss ye like the bairns in the bothy miss the affa fantoosh summer sunshine.

slowly ye gie me back ma smile,
ah anely wish tae thank ye,
sae meet me aat the loch's lowse an lets hum the tunes we danced tae,
as geets wi nae convictions.

Where have you been,
my closest friend.
I did not see you.

Sometimes i forget how i must act around you.
You always despised my stubbornness,
And how could i ever blame you.
I often feel the same about my own decrepit heart.
I miss you like the children in the bothy miss the great summer sunshine.

slowly you give me back my smile,
i only wish to thank you,
so meet me where the loch's work ends and lets hum the tunes we danced to.
as children with no convictions.

.
Bothy = Small hut, usually in the highlands, usually left unlocked for people to freely use during travels
You're in trouble
We think its double
And now were going to silently burst the bubble
Were going to reduce your isolation to rubble
I know to some this isn't subtle
But it shouldn't be
No, it shouldn't be
Your life went downhill fast
And you were a victim
I'm so sorry we erroded our common sense and clashed here and there
The fault is mine and for that I'm sorry
I remember the potential you had shown when we were little
Year by year we drifted apart
But I never wanted to see your life fall apart
I haven't treated you the best but I do care
I'm just a ****** sometimes cause I'm mad at myself or something else
No excuses, blame it on me still
Life has stood still
For a few moments
Because we don't know what happened to you
And we're fearing the worst
We hope you didn't do what you think
Please stay strong
You don't deserve any of this
I'm rushed with guilt for the past
But I'm going to make it up now
And were going to get revenge for you somehow
We got your back
This poem is about an old friend of mine that drifted apart as years past but we still talk a little despite the clashing. We've gotten on each other's nerves but both of us have changed and he has shown some remorse before he disappeared and now I feel like I wasn't nice enough to him and that's what I blame myself on. I have no idea what happened to him but I hope he is ok.
The classic metal artist.
The man of sharpened tongue.
With each lick a picture,
He paints upon your canvas.

The rarely appreciated work of a little understood poet.
Painting poetry.
Though many would seek to emulate what one stroke of his brush may convey,
Only few possess the means to reproduce the sheer purity of emotion in every sweep, line and dot.
Many forgeries gain more applause,
Yet the painter allows them spotlight.
The man who paints in the shadows is rarely seen hanging in public halls.
Seeking not fame, fortune or acknowledgement.
He paints only for purpose.
Love the painter,  love the poet.
Though the man himself is flawed.
He will not cry for anyone, nor pray nor care nor wonder.
He does not put his brush away, after all.


Blood does paint the prettiest pictures.
Perhaps just one or two,
I drink too much you see.
A quiet beer spirals into bottles of whisky far more often than not.
And tonight,
It certainly did.

Staggering home in the rain,
Unable to walk straight,
Alone in the dark damp streets of my grey city.
I take my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contacts,
A long list of choice,
Perhaps one hundred people.
Ex girlfriends and current pals and those who I got drunk with.

Head a mess and slightly sad,
I scroll through all their names.

Only to feel worse;
Because I don't want to talk to any of them at all.
 Apr 2016 Maddii Lloyd
summer
i am not pretty enough,
i am not skinnier enough,
i am not nice enough,
i am not fake enough,
i am not happy enough,
i am not enough,
for
him,
for
society,
for
them,
for
anyone.
Thanks Society :(
They wrote his name in stone today.
Rock carved out by metal.

I walked through his garden,
Inside his temporary halls.
Flowers spoke as men fell silent.

I sat and heard his name today.
In tones of desperation.

I walked with friends, his family.
And all us were hollow.
Words can do no justice.

They wrote his name in stone today.
And I will truelly miss him.
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