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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 ...

Books

The books I read have taught me 
almost everything that I wanted to know
almost everything that dwells in imaginations
almost everything that rules misdirections
almost everything that infuriates misnomer
almost everything that can be manipulated
almost everything that can be stipulated
almost every world that's not mine
almost every tragedy where I cried
almost every emotion that one goes through
almost every madness that one controls
almost every relationship that becomes lifelong
almost every little thread that make ties go strong
almost every little piece of bread that fills up emptiness
almost every act of truth that couldn't fight death
almost every pact of stealth that couldn't defeat lies
However, there's more to know
the more I read
and every word that I do 
turns me into a different breed
that needs to be at reach for everyone
that feeds to the compelling mass
to narrate a potent story that was told before 
even you and I existed

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