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

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he blood on these walls is so beautiful

I scratched all my nails down to their cuticles I numbed all the pain with pharmaceuticals This ending to my life’s so suitable I ran off everyone who ever knew me I knew not what I do, was quite unruly These mistakes have taken over, they overgrew me There’s no hope surviving, but I’m smiling – truly To be at the end, and finally have the peace To stare at this sin, yet then accept the beast To be on the mend, but still so crave release To no more defend, and blindly let me cease To hold in my hands this fragile sense surviving I’m trapped in a land that’s barely of my liking I’m captive and that’s exactly why I’m dying It’s crap that fam’ly will find me out while crying There’s no sense in going on, no use denying Despite what I try, it’s useless when I’m lying These lines so inscribed deny myself while sighing This existence done, this is my final writing

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Comments (1)

AliceJanuary 19, 2026

Wow!! This is Amazing!!

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