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A song is sung
A song is felt
Constantly heard,
From the chirps of birds
Birds dance
Birds sing
Emotions are felt
Through the song they sing

If you listen it’s there
If you feel it, It’s felt
But do are you really feeling it?
Do you really listen to the bird’s song?

A dance, A song
You watch as it plays along
Colors flash as pitch change
A song is just a song
While the birds sing
her smile glowing like a moonlight in the sky,
soft as feather, brighter than a star.
my eyes can't process how beautiful
all i can do is admire it

i asked the moon, “why do I feel this way?
why do the stars all dim everytime i saw her?”
it sighed, “because her light outshines the night
she’s not just beauty, she’s the reason why.”

“i wish i were beside her,” i sighed to the moon.
“what would you do?” it asked, softening its glow.
my heart beating fast, “just let her know
she’s my dream, and i want it to be true.”
Rain oozed down the windshield.
Like ants, people scampering about
their unexamined lives, dodging raindrops.
The sky and her liquid laugh.
Earth's in charge here,
although some ego's would beg to differ.
Rain is not selective,
it pours down on the lives of everyone,
regardless of your status.
Whenever and wherever it wants.
Leaving puddles of its existence.
So go get wet.
Get soaked.
Feel alive.
The inventor of the umbrella,
never felt free inside.
Hey, you...

I think you're beautiful

Such a lovely girl

Your poems make

Me laugh and cry

Smile and think

Graceful as a

Skater on the rink

I love your mind

The words you use

The imagery is

Lovely

It's

True

- Hex
To all the girls I've followed on here
Hey, there, boy

This one is for you

Your words are far

Too mature for your age

I find I might just love your brain

I could read all your poems

If you'd ask me to

Turn them into a song

Make a playlist and play them

All night long

You write for your friends

You write for your family

You write for love

But my favorite poems of yours

Are when you write for yourself

Your poems are beautiful.

- Hex
For Abbott J Hardison
It has to mean something
That we think of each other
At the same time of day
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