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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 ...

Tremble

I can see tears ..
But can do nothing.
I can see worries..
But can do nothing.
I can see fear of loss..
I can see smear of moss.
I can see rust..
Accumulated dust.
Giving up trust.
Sinking down to adjust.
But can do nothing.
I have been told to go on..
As no one waits alone.
I can see promises fall apart..
I can see kisses seeping through.
I can see love empty as ever..

I can see lies binding them over.
I can see tries that never got started..
I can see smiles that departed.
Anger has a new meaning.
Ego is self demeaning.
Pride is of nuisance.
It’s the ride of penance.
I can hear the grumble..
The inner mumble.
The gibberish fumble of adulthood.
That ..
It never pays back to be humble.
So cease the fake assemble.
And ease the tremble within.

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