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A Prison Filled With Smoke

 I drew with a pencil that broke in the middle I drew with the shorter half that choked on the riddle I knew it was going to be harder to hide my fiddle I drew on top of a scar that had been ripped open too far I drew the stitches to cover the leakage in rage I made the lead to break I drew dark glasses to hide my eyes from lies that cover my face I drew empty classes where I teach freedom I knew no one would come and take the risk that it encompasses I drew the bucket  that has holes everywhere I drew the station that never sees a train only the pain of everything passing right through the empty tracks I drew a relation that is always in tension what should I say how should I pay what should I do not to stay I drew a blanket to cover my soul I drew a bullet to destroy the ghoul I knew someone will call me out I knew someone will shout I drew a chair where I can sit and think about being fair I drew a floor filled with gravity of good time smoke gathered around me suddenly, I ...

The Broken Shadow




Darker as it can get..

The lonelier it felt.
Deeper as it can penetrate..
Painful was this to reiterate.
Scary are the pathways.. 
Never ending the castaway.
Emerging triumphant..
Despite loosing the quotient. 
Try is the solace..
When love makes the embrace.
Impersonating solitude..
And a dying attitude. 
A voice underneath the screech..
Leaving unkind words as a figure of speech.
What’s visible is unadvisable.. 
But it’s reasons are amicable.
Resistance is power..
Being delinquent is sustainable.
Coward is the mind by design..
Overcoming every passion to resign.
Poignant seems wisdom..
Elegant still freedom.
The pursuit of desire..
Burning souls spit fire.
Smoke furious flaring out as they bow..
While sitting there calmly is the broken shadow.

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