RhymeMosaic

Meter, Metaphor, Memory + Meaning

Poetry by Brandon WordSmith — exploring love, loss, faith, and the human experience. The site loads its full interactive experience with JavaScript; what follows is the readable text version.

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Founder's Canon
January 19, 2026
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our love has been replaced with a razorblade

An amazing safe place that evades pain Erasing in reverse, a curse placed upon skin That hurts and shirks all our worth within My heart’s thin, and malnourished Why must we end when we began to flourish? I have no courage, no trust in myself Nobody else, Nobody’s help Only myself In this Hell But I’m swell though I dwell on the pressure Not as well by myself but it’s hard to measure With the pleasure how quite I’ll forget her I’m upset, sure But light as a feather Though not clever I pick self destruct Watch my health as I’m tearing it up And I’m stuck in a terror, so what Should I do to repair what is hurt I appear to be caring but bluff I appear to be daring and tough But this living is scary and rough When preparing to tear through the fluff So I say that enough is too much And regain my sensation of touch And replace the division of us With additional visions of trust In a rut and my heart is just breaking Made of stone it is yours for the taking Can’t erase the wrong turns that were taken We can still change the ones we are making

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