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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 ...

To You

To you..
I love..
For how many ..
Different ways..
I could think of.
To you..
I seek..
For any..
Kind of day..
I could wink off.
To you..
I find..
Not to be a part of..
Any given way..
That meets dismay.
To you..
I shower..
A pattern of colorful shade..
That never would fade.
Away the smile from your face.
To you..
I deny..
The caricature of actualism.
As reality makes this dull.
Trickling down to the very skull.
To you..
I know..
And you shall never say..
But pick to stay..
Until the very last day.
In my mind..
Like the very same day..
When I found you.

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