I am a ball of words waiting to be explored, every word differently expressed to create a mood in which gives me life.
Each word as unique as me. Giving me the ability to seek true meaning of myself.
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I am 17 and counting..
They tell me poetry is for developed feelings
I tell them it is for the ones who feel
They tell me it is not for a child
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My eyes are crimson and my speech is perfect
I am a beauty divine
I thirst for the lonesome truth in the dark
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Alone and lost without a passion of regret
through a dusty window do I cry
Injured for the delight of others through
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Understanding me takes time to figure out how I work
Write me off as crazy or mental but I work differently
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Take deep slow breaths as you get into place
Rehearse until you are sore and tired
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The beginning is dark and blissful,
some things are very peaceful; like death
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What do I do when the love I feel is far away but my marriage is so near?
What do I do when my heart aches for me to back down out of constant fear?
What do I do when I have to leave the only home I know?
What do I do when I try to be calm and not let my anger show?
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