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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 ...

Broken Moon

I walked..
Through the night.
Being aware..
That this night..
Will be gone too soon.
The silence resurrecting…
The heart beats conflicting..
The steps followed..
Tears gulped as swallowed.
Laughter echoes..
Awkwardly knows..
The distant breeze…
Covering up unease.
Darkness confides..
Momentum hides..
I don’t want to go…
As the shadow walks beside me…
It’s not what you see..
I will always be there..
And more than anything ..
You have to outreach thee.
Broken is the moon..
Broken falls in tune.
But though broken..
The shining token..
Always defeats the unspoken me.

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