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Deven
Sacrificing seconds to maximize the minute.
Five hundred nights we shared this room You still crack the blinds to watch the moon No dogs allowed has been long overruled You always felt that was just a bit cruel Despite the hair, dirt, and drool You welcome the new fur family rule No more fussing with my sloppy side Now you tidy the sheets in half the time The center of the mattress is just as fine Though you still refuse to cross that line You still sleep on your side of the bed Yet, Five hundred nights since I've been dead
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Aug 23, 2022
Aug 23, 2022 at 12:40 AM UTC
Five Hundred Nights
That distant memory - a used balloon that has already served it's purpose Unable to soar pronounced as it once were Only to bobble from my path deflated and regrettably forgotten
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Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 2:08 AM UTC
Regrettably Forgotten
I've been attacked, chased, and charged By cats and snakes small and large Bitten by sharks with great white teeth All while monsoons crashed our reef I've attracted gorillas with my jungle musk And fought them off with an elephants tusk But in all the places I've been stranded It's only cities where I can't stand it
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Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 12:53 AM UTC
Explorer's Dilemma
I once drew a dinosaur scene on my grandparent's wall. T-rex and long necks over 30 feet tall. My raptor looked lonely so I thought I'd draw double. "Wow. You're going to be in so much trouble." My sister's comment came with such great surprise. She didn't stop to see the detail in the Triceratop's eyes. No compliments or critiques, she just walked on by. She returned with a smirk and someone by her side. My feeling of joy was replaced with pure dread. Like the crayon I had dropped, my face, pure red. Grandpa picked up the blood colored cylinder He than showed me how add our family signature. My grandpa would jest, as I nearly **** my long-johns:  "You’re never too old to draw with crayons."
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Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 12:26 AM UTC
You’re never too old to draw with crayons.
Some time is spent for school Some time is spent for work Sometimes you become a tool Sometimes you'll earn a perk You might trade your hours for cash You could swap a month for more Each time you might complete a task Your wallet could grow galore Go buy yourself a gift worth wanting Absence of wealth could be daunting but steady goes the time for cash and that lack of which - does not last You can always earn the money back But spending time is a one-way track.
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 3:11 PM UTC
Non-renewable Resources
While yes, I have a résumé It does no justice describing mé So I'll leave this here for all to see All I ask is please hire me I'm great with sales and communication I can create tales with no hesitation Been fixing PCs since '99 Right after I broke all of mine I don't do drugs I don't cause fights I won't give shrugs to new insights I can Photoshop best selling ads and tell corny jokes just like most dads I write HTML and CSS I can kinda spell At least try my best Started my first business in 5th grade Profiting from the paper airplane trade I'm a fast learner, a problem solver, a trust earner, an idea causer, a spreadsheet slayer, a real team player While I'm no photography guru I've actually had a paid gig or two Dove into video editing way back when MySpace was a thing Oh yeah. Plus I'm proficient with Microsoft Office.
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Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 2:17 AM UTC
Please Hire Me
They think I'm a screw-up I tell myself "well that's fine" "I'll just prove them wrong" But with each attempt I make It only proves them right
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Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 12:31 AM UTC
Proven Screw-up
When the moon finally meets it's ceiling Ahh, I wish I could describe the feeling The countryside gives me a terrific peak Early sun illuminates an anacamptic creek The cricket's intuition ends their rhythmic chirp I can see the dew glisten on the grass and the dirt All silence - besides the wind and the bluejay They spin through the sky for a game the two play Warm waves of air push over the hills Goosebumps ensue but I welcome the chills This is a moment that an artist might draw but he simply can't because he's part of it all This is a setting that our memories reluctantly dilute Though recollection of chores are crisp and acute Try as I may - I can not pocket this instant For when the day emerges it all becomes distant
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
Magic of Morning
The boogie man is real But he's not behind your closet door The boogie man is real But he doesn't hide in shadows anymore The boogie man is real But he's not beneath your bed The boogie man is real But he's only in your head
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 3:36 AM UTC
The Real Boogie Man
Some like it hot Some like it cold Most move to Florida When they're 60 years old.
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 3:29 AM UTC
Snow Birds