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I don't get it, why do people live vicariously
through the viciousness and indirect idiocracy
ludicrous plots And sub par sub plots
why is it, then that dramas, not even very good ones got so hot?

I mean I have nothing against a drama if it's done correctly
but respect me and and my intelligence if you're going to write a dramatic show make it worth my investment
Give me a reason to watch again
don't just rely on Facebook posts from my friends

I won't extol anything that doesn't hold my attention I'm glad a show with a black cast is making it past my community onto others around the country but it just doesn't appeal to me
Pay attention to the title, that's what it's about
Every word's a trap to your lies.
Every thought pushes me down,
***** me into the ground.
My shadow and soul wait,
waiting for you to let me out
from the dark stain of your perfect life.
Blood runs red,
lies run dark.
There's not one spot
that's a spark in this storm.
You put impostor thoughts in me
replacing the ones of healing.
I'm breaking out but of these chains...
but why do you keep dragging me back
into this cell of destruction?
As she and I walked
closely holding hands,
many glared at us.
In their eyes,
all they saw was a
beautiful matured woman
with a boy.
But what they didn't know
was that I made her
absolutely happy.
I saw many beauties in her
that others before me
were blinded to.
That I was madly
and
irrevocably in love
with her,
and she with I.
It did not matter what
anyone thought about us.
What only mattered was
that she was mine
and I was hers.
The days of limericks
gone with the tide
thought as old fashioned
were they too hard to rhyme
or maybe thought childish
no longer taught in the schools
i hope we're not raising
a generation of fools
even old timers
seem to leave them alone
setting rhyme up with meter
is a skill that they hone
if we'd just write a few
and sharpen our mind
I think a lot of great poetry
is what we would find
 Mar 2015 Brandy Nicole
B
•••
 Mar 2015 Brandy Nicole
B
My bones creak
like the inner
workings of
an old house.
There's some damage
from the constant
heartbreaks
and multiple empty
promises,
but they're still
supportive
enough to keep me
standing.
If you listen closely,
you can faintly hear
my frail bones cry,
"I miss you."
Please come
home.



B.S.
Your body has fifteen permanent marks,
Most of them are tattoos, some of them are scars.

The marks weave a map - each one leading to a different lover,
The scars are the lost battles - broken medals and battered stars.

I navigated my way inside your walls in a subtle manner,
We fought about therapy and misadventure - our hearts never in agreement.
#6 on 52weekpoetrychallenge
My soul is different then yours.
Mine is old, yours is young
Yours is light, mine is dark
Mine is a cage, yours is a latch
Yours is fire, mine is ice
Mine is a lightning flash, yours is a moonbeam
Yours is the Sun, mine is pluto
Mine is scars, yours is music
Yours is pages on a book, mine is a poker game
Mine is my own, your is not
Fire/ice,lightning flash/moonbeams inspired by Emily Bronte
Scars/music inspired by Christopher Poindexter
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