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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 ...

Turning Pink

It makes me think
That one day the sky
Will turn pink
And at it's  brink
Will be a collection
Of shining stars 
All at once
Filling my eyes 
With glitter

It makes me think
That one day the sky
Will tend to sink
And like a dollop of ink
There will be a piece
Of art
Spread wide across 
Abandoning the moss
Of jitter

It makes me think
That someday the sky
Will roar
After gathering enough
Thunder within
To shudder
A tiny being
That while getting wet
Will still run
Squandering for
Rains will only make
Things harder 

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