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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 ...

There Is

A simple way..
Hiding behind..
The woods if you dare.
A false ripple..
Occurring inside..
Every eye that you stare.
A story..
To reveal..
Just ears listening..
As they heal.
A glory..
To steal..
By years of chosen.
Not to go after a broken wheel.
A romance…
At a single glance..
Where they danced..
All night long.
Even without a song.
A pattern..
Of being disheartened.
By the one who meant..
The world.
Laughter.
That always stands out..
When you run after.
Your little trout.
A simplistic.
Yet realistic.
Faces that fade..
Behind a grim shade.
A night..
Without a fight.
Giving out an amazing sight..
Of stars staring back at you..
And words that bred right.

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