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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 ...

No One Is Coming

I sat right there..
And no one was coming.
It had rained all night..
But no one was coming.
Tears washed the stare..
As none of it seemed fair.
Left a drifted layer..
Of the unheard footsteps share.
My eyes were closing up..
As no one was coming.
Dreams were acting up..
As no one was coming.
Reflections unaware..
Words with abrupt flair.
Struck a chord of tantrum..
So far being left out got accustom.
I spoke to myself..
Finding out no one was coming.
There’s still you who is here..
With rest of the world overwhelming.
So don’t go back where you came from..
As no one ever meant to come.
Start again taking the left turn..
Start again with the lessons learn.
While they decided to disappear suddenly..
You move ahead without stopping abruptly.

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