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Jan 2016 · 365
Poor lucky thing.
Poor lucky thing.
You've no wars to fight,
no adversity to face,
and the silver on your spoon makes everything taste richer.

Poor beautiful thing.
With no wrong to right,
and no fight to fight
what's to stop you from tearing yourself apart?
Dec 2015 · 503
I can write a poem.
I can write a poem,
Sure why not?
I'm young and attended english,
I've felt the wind in my hair and loves keen sting.
I can write a poem,
sure.
I've seen some ****,
like 9/11 on tv and my dog crushed under the tire of Mom's Subaru.
One of those was worse.
Does that say more about me or people as a whole?
Stop,
poem time.
Now I'm self conscious.
Gym class,
picked last,
the video on fire safety was too scary,
I had to sit outside,
stop.
I can write a poem,
I'm sensitive,
or maybe I just cry a lot.
Someone once told me not to?
I didn't listen,
does that say more about me or people all together?
Stop.
Violets are blue,
stop,
break the rules,
violets are red!
Stop.
Not better.
Stop,
breathe....
I can write a poem.
just finish one line,
then you can take a break.

— The End —