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Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Stories browsed by the bedside of budding of children
Told of all the adventure that awaited us
So I ran amok with my compatriots
Every one of us wreathed in youth
Burning with the boundless fuel
Of curiosity
From the streets spilled opportunities
Of Fame, Of Wealth, Of Love
Then eventually the Sun rays Bent
Before bleeding upon the stone
So that we traversed on bricks of yellow
Until sore legs led us
To an enchanted emerald mirror
And as we stared we began to wheeze
Seeing a frail old wizard or witch
Wondering “why” with a whimper
As curtains cradling clocks, crash upon us
An Ode to Oz an Ode to Youth
5.3k · Jul 2018
Sticking then Slipping
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
Sometimes I think we’re all mere magnets
Pulling towards this, pulling away from another
Getting closer to your grandmother while fighting with your mother
Moving out to find your identity but shielded online by anonymity
I swear we’re all mere magnets
Tired of running towards our goals but happily running from boredom
Telling others we know so much but then adept to play dumb
Wanting a bigger slice of success yet unwilling to gift the beggar a crumb
Aren’t we all mere magnets?
All relationships looking for some big reward
And pulling away if our emotions become too sore
Yet, what if some weren’t really magnets but pretended to be
Could those outliers find one another and stick for eternity
So my dear, are you a magnet?
Searching Seer- like for unfathomable forms of connection
4.5k · Aug 2018
Meditation On Being # 2
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
She pulled up her shawl and left the house
Gone to get more tea
And all the people passing by
And all the noises eating at her ear
Could not grasp her attention
Attending only to herself
Brilliant and Boisterous her thoughts
A majestic melody of their own
So how could she not be secure?
In her soul’s symphony
The strings vibrated her vessel
The horns heckled her heart
The drums beat down her darkness
And wisdom conducted alongside grace
Matching one another’s pace
Astute in one another’s ache
At conducting timelessly, never being late
It was almost as if their union was fate
Almost being key for it surely did take
Tireless effort, and sacrifices to make
The two into each other’s esteemed mate
4.2k · Aug 2018
Inner Mt. Everest
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
As I scale the *****
I note the melody of the wind
With its sweeping symphonic shifts
My nails grind against granite
Before flaking and falling into the abyss
Yet I persist
Upward along the lone path
Where the air recedes like tides
And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes
Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid
Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety
Which stems from the worn clothes of society
Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded
Like old styles of yesteryear
Now basking in all my naturalness
I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend
My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin
Beating with Brilliance it grins
Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins
The work of healing from within
And aren't we awash in fear when we receive our climbing gear
3.6k · Aug 2018
The Exploration Of Eros
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Like Cortes or Columbus
Combining like clouds
To storm upon thy heart
Conquering every crevice
Chaining your cheerfulness
So that you wither in wants
Watching with a weathered sigh
As it tirelessly loads treasures
That were known and unknown to you
Upon silent ships that set sail
Destined to return to dazzling far off places
And oh the tales it’ll tell
As you woefully wail
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
When the moth no longer meditates on the cloth
When the fish fails to flit when it’s caught
When the calling crickets lose the will to whip up noise
When the eagle’s eagerness is evaporated along with poise
When all of nature neglects itself, adrift on its track
You’ll know for sure those feelings aren’t coming back
When that spark flickers feebly before flailing out
Pauper of Prose Sep 2018
Insects layered lilac pedals upon her skin
As if she was a nexus of nectar
As if her body were the chalice of youth
And all that dripped from her, made her a fountain
That flooded the halls of fatherly time
Leaving her ignorant of seconds, minutes, hours
So why do the insects dress her like the flowers?
Because to the ideal of a perfect plant, she is treason
For she never decays in any season
I struggle to come to grips with the sheer beauty the muse has laid before me. Are all artists not merely insects?
1.9k · Jul 2018
When Intuition Itches
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
Churning with the shells of critters
Foam infused with flour hues
Reaching and receding
Timeless yet awash in currents
It learns in waves
The perfect pupil
Relying on all it can see
Awash and adrift
1.1k · Jul 2018
Shifting Like Thelonious
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
If I’ve ever known truth it just chaffed at the neck
I’ve been suffering all the symptoms of a lack of respect
So I must reflect then deflect all the gloomy flecks I see
Then reflect again on the lifestyle,
Of the wild life inside the childish side of me
All in effort to be free
Not free falling
Not roaming from a new ideal, to new ideal like a new calling
I 'd rather have a grand New Deal like Mr. Roosevelt's
And swim easily in this sea of changes like Michael Phelps
Another straggler striding through society's slopes, in search of serenity
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
Eros walked into the chamber, garnering all eyes
Lust and Limerence walked by her side
They stopped before a panel where Venus did preside
And Cupid next to Venus, gripped his arrows like a prize
And the Muses made up the rest
And all muscles in the chamber braced for unrest
Glances and gazes did continuously dart
As all sported lockets of fire by their hearts
Venus declared mankind must suffer in pain
For all efforts to show the world love have been in vain
And to continue gifting love would be insanity, a chore
Cause they’d take their piece of it and still declare war,
On themselves and on one another
Slaughtering their self-esteems, siblings, fathers, mothers
Yet Eros objected, keeping her eyes peeled
Declaring love has always been a battlefield
And Cupid fired an arrow at Ero’s way
And Lust led the limp arrow astray
Then those enlightened ones lit fuses that day
And the shrapnel from that fight still makes it way
Through hearts of men and women with feelings at play
When feelings fight nothing makes sense...and collateral damage collects like cents
Pauper of Prose Jun 2018
I sigh for the many awash in despair
My attitude attuned in a devil may care
All clamoring for Poe not knowing of Baudelaire
Or that Ovid’s Bleak Black books of exile are out there
Content to coil in their own content of the unfair
Not understanding that Depression’s hosting a centuries long fair
So rejoice for others have long paid the fare
And like starlight from afar your suffering is fair
And through artistic labor, you set tables of tantalizing fare
Hope heaped underneath hollow hells...
Pauper of Prose Jun 2018
All was peaceful in the young realm
Just and Un-just had finished erecting their epic statues
The tree of Taste had begun to bear fruit in the royal courtyard
And youthful bliss ruled over the realm,
With jewels of jubilance, adorning its crown
But from the ghetto’s rose passion and puberty
Together conspiring to rouse the masses, their words infecting,
Each sector of emotion and thought
Eventually swarming the grand palace with its paltry guards
The twin rebels lead a crazed crowd that crashed through gates
And toppled the two statues, burned the tree of taste
Finally poor, pitiful, youthful bliss was dragged from their throne
The crown jewels of jubilance replaced by emeralds of angst
And now Puberty and Passion ruled
Under new banners of maturity
945 · Aug 2018
Ode in Distress
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Internal winds that wail with might
A sudden outpour of downpour
Distress accelerating
Into regions physical and mental
Untangling its hair of horrors
So that miniature hells hail
And free will and free thought,
Take the brunt of the damage
Now paralysis is peppered over all
But with one sneeze vigor is awakened
So see all is interlinked
For natural disaster
And natural remedy
Are naturally destined to occur
Agony. seemingly everlasting, allows the muse to come and through the curls of her hair my fingers run.
829 · Jul 2018
Lurking Like a Lioness
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
Desire watches through the tall grass
Blades skipping past her face with no class
The target sipped from the stream of routine
Believing itself well equipped
Sometimes all alone at other times in a relationship
Then the wind whips, and desire is quick
Chasing down the target till it’s in her teeth
A struggle ensues but is brutally brief
Suddenly through the air a shrill whistles soars
Desire retreats to its master, happy with its score
And there stands a childish figure, famous from lore
Sensing the mayhem, from above cry the sparrows
Cupid winks and says “I don’t always use arrows.”
Days when feelings strike in unexpected ways...
Pauper of Prose Feb 2019
Laughter and Loneliness
Fill the streets of towns
Some cuddle in comfort
Or
Linger on the lone ledge
And these events are caused by
Those that bury their heart in others
Those that bury their heart in emptiness
But remember
We all must carry shovels
So don’t mind the blisters
Or the uneven handle
Or the dulling of such a tool
For we can dig ourselves
Into anything
And out of everything
Happy pre-V-Day to every soul slotted into every conceivable condition....
744 · Jun 2018
Cradle of Eros
Pauper of Prose Jun 2018
Born from dove like divinity
Eros emerged in the freest fiercest forest
Far from the sights of man
And it effortlessly enchanted all it ever met
The branches, critters, air, and ground were,
Consumed in continual craving
That only Ero’s fair gaze, sweet touch, serene scent could quench
And for many eons Eros ran and reigned
Until by chance it happened upon a new source of light
Stepping closer, it saw the outskirts of an outpost
Running into the town Eros encountered the children of mankind
Lamps, roads, houses, wagons, and strangest of all, animals bound
Then finally Eros met humans
At first they were awed by it to the point of freezing
Then snatching back their senses they all sought to win her
Men and women, babe and elderly,
All wanted a piece of Eros
Overwhelmed, Eros tried to explain
That it could never dwell in a place so compact, close quartered,
Constrained
But their ears were clogged by lust, and
Eyes clouded in heat to conquer
So Eros ran, later referring to civilization as,
The Champions of Chains
Treatise for the freshest feeling that makes us fall...
734 · Oct 2018
Ode to Hidden figures
Pauper of Prose Oct 2018
Straps encrusted with family crests
Dutifully straddled the masculine figure
Armor affectionately clasped the broad chest
The sword nudged in between calloused hands
The helm longed to greet a rough beard
Now all suited and lusting for heroic feats
Yet when such attire
Came upon the visage
Of man's unequal other
Night did descend in haste
Blotting out the irises in mass
So that heroine’s, Great daughters
Drowned in the depths of darkness
Choking in fits as they sunk
Until their feet sampled the sand
Of history’s vast ocean
The movie was simply awe inducing and it really make's you think of all the other great deeds of unknown women.
721 · Aug 2018
Delicate Desolation
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
The pasture lays abandoned
The barn is bare
The fields grown overripe
Fences lay fallen
Roads returning to dirt
Not a single tool lifted
Nor a single human whimper
Nay a cry from any creature
Had been heard for many eons
And one may wonder
Of the perished and of paradise
For Earth lay singing
While all else is silent
And some long for music
And some long for quiet
And all long for something
And some long without knowing
And some long for things long gone
And some long just to go along with others longing
And some are just so winded from being long winded in longing
So longings lengthen,
Filling us to the brim with hollow wants
And this perfect paradox becomes
Pandemic
718 · Dec 2018
Education Is Like Excalibur
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
On park benches next to the elderly wise
In the library where the University lies
At seminars hosted outside for free
Or lecture halls with Professors facing me
In all these lands
My mind expands
For,
I lean in to learn where wisdom won it's wreath
And come away with a sword that knows no sheath
Pauper of Prose Sep 2018
With windstorms littered with snow
Failing visions know not where to go
While the inches accumulate and grow
Man’s spirits follow the temperatures so low
However one flower lingers on
With pristine petals that were never torn
Swaying in bliss, so out of season
Defying logic, repelling reason
Inciting all who see to the hall of mystery
These pupils receiving lectures on life’s inconsistency
But the wise walk out of class, truly see
Sometimes it’s best to let things be
To greet such sights with eyes in awe
And a wordless mouth that’s left ajar
586 · Jul 2018
Beacon to Blindness
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
Light lengthens as you spin upon my thoughts
Blinding my darkness as you whirl like a top
As if the sun had settled on you
Scandalously running from the sky
“Doom” The phrase, raving men of the world scream in rants
The same phrase oozed from the sap of plants
And echoed as well from all animal's pitiful pants
For not a single ray stayed to shimmer
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
What if the Sphinx ran out of riddles?
Or more pointedly put
Grew resigned of the many that stood before it
Those stuttering in fear
Or those too clever to stick around and converse
What if the Sphinx
Finally shifted its gilded gaze
Unto itself, realizing
Its vast intellect was stifled and stuffed
Into the gaudy an unappealing role
Of an obstacle
Stagnant
How its glittering streams of bright consciousness
Would twist downward into the deepest drain
And the Sphinx thus thoroughly empty
May content itself
To pick up a phone
And shuffle in silence
Searching in-between buffers
Alone
Like the rest of us
547 · Nov 2018
Canoeing with Camus
Pauper of Prose Nov 2018
I paddle as he talks
Of life, and the veil just behind it
The water plops as he plods,
On about the things humans never deserved
Saying we have no true structure, style, or word
All is annihilated by the Absurd
Yet with his nugget of knowledge in mine
I paddle on
A petty Ode to the brilliant Albert Camus
Pauper of Prose Jan 2019
Ancient Seat of Versailles
Sweet shimmering palace
Place of majestic mirrors
Reflect the grand beauty you store
So that each vision
Is distorted and deformed
Yet still retains the brilliance
Of picturesque perfection
Like Capitalism unsoiled
Or Socialism Unspoiled
A duet of ideas
Promising the good life
The great life
Heaven, before it was hardened
By revolutionaries of reality
Sappho supports thy serene crown....
509 · Jul 2018
A Tiara of Tears
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
So sweetly sit’s the muse
She’s graced you with a gaze you can use
Lava-like ruby eyes rile and rivet you
But one wonders when she arrived
She came in the dead winter of your sorrows
She came after life harpooned hopeful tomorrows
She came when friends became frigid and hollow
And why? Well it’s your pain that she came to borrow
Her actions lacking rhyme and reason, are so hard to follow
Tears that turn hard thoughts to liquid,
Are the polish she uses to make her crown glisten and glow
Cries that crowd your chest in chronic pain,
Are the notes she plays on her lyre for magnificent melodies
Despair that drips like acid until your soul stews in steam
She dips upon her eyes to see all more clearly
So though we may not know her whim or ways
Mysterious muse will mingle with you on your most defeated days
In the depths of despair..she comes
499 · Sep 2018
Listless as Changing Leaves
Pauper of Prose Sep 2018
I’d conjure Fall leaves to follow you
Bright hues, radiant in gold and plum
And they’ll speak of what magic I’ve done
I’d seem like a great wizard tis is true
But such magic would barely compare at all
To your gaze which causes my chest to fall
From Helios heights where frost doesn’t thaw
Where lust and love’s leaflets languish like law
Where passion’s ruthless river is rushing raw
From this endangered emotive environment I fall
And naturally I then tumble from my studied reason
But luckily Fall is my favorite season
Finally the first day of Fall!
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
My memories become
Motionless in midnight
Adept to freeze frames
Still seconds of past scenes
Linger on auditory loops
Repeat, remix, replay
Motionless my memories
Become in midnight
And at some point
The Spielberg center of my soul
Screams cut
Pauper of Prose Jan 2019
My gaze remains unrequited
Yet I spy smooth skin without ripples
The smile that arrives when you wave
Your hair that flows about in currents
Yet my gaze remains like statues
My passion seated in cement
Seeing what moves others but remaining still
And how the others, for you fall
As you come and then take leave
With amber eyes a flush in autumn
Yet my butterflies have been grounded
My stomach suspending their flights
So that emotional baggage is delayed
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
She’s soft and scented in *****
Aromas of fine wine, upon her skin cruise
She holds her glass steady, then takes a sip
Eyes cast out to sea, under the waves her thoughts slip
As if everything around her, was but a blip
Some passerby wants to ask what’s she thinking
But seeing her so relaxed, instead asked what’s she drinking
453 · Jan 2019
Blessed Isles of Bliss
Pauper of Prose Jan 2019
Lifted from the river of routine
Wring from me, the wetness of weary
Let me dry upon the soil of desire
I stand in fields formed by the fantastic
On each vine I spy
Time growing ripe and restless
Hearts swelling in soft feeling
Laughter long and lasting
And everything is in abundance
So I ****, pluck, pick
Accumulating these unclaimed riches
And bottle them into wine
A thousand bottles I store
Then the fine liquid touches my tongue
Delight dances upon the taste buds
And I’m wealthy, in love, in time, in laughter
For years I do this
Learning nothing new or worthy
Banning all knowledge
For even a single frayed book
Could disturb
All of this
Bliss
Though the Isle may be different for each person, we escape there all the same..
452 · Jan 2019
A Multitude of Morose
Pauper of Prose Jan 2019
What of the young Donna
Reclining with book in hand
A sigh circling her lips
A glaze greeting her gaze
Her thoughts bored of days
Endless days
Depthless days
Where every voice and all actions
Are slowly stewed
In rich stock of routine
And people arrive, bowls in hand
Forming long, bending lines
Like the Depressions of old
Where defeat, distrust, damage
Linger and lay
Within the sleepless eyes of many
Inspired by the painting A Decadent Girl by
Ramon Casas
442 · Jul 2018
Nuclear Negligence
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
So many scream and cry of the worst
Those people inflicting hurts that bubble and burst
Yet I’ve encountered ones who are much crueler
Who invite madness and chaos by unmeasured rulers
They are the many who never really care
Whose emotional cupboard lay blank, bleak and bare
Who raze instead raise their kids, like barbaric hordes of old
And the kids grow to be monsters that don’t even know,
That the many screams and cries that they’ve heard for years
Are derived from the neglect that nested between their ears
And even the righteous can be blind to those things they left behind..
442 · Aug 2018
Frolicking In French Ways
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
She said with much respect
The memories of us were like Marie Antoinette
I imagine she smothered their screams
Before leading them to the Guillotine
Guiltless and why shouldn't she be
She wants change, revolutionary
So long live her new Nation State!
And no, know, it doesn’t bother me
I’ll simply change my foreign policy
439 · Aug 2018
Apocalypse of Love
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
When every pristine picture
With every serene scent
Alongside the most melodic melodies
Joined by teasing, titillating touches
Converge along one path,
Each from a different den
Behold, four fearsome horsemen
Galloping faster than the most energized dart
Towards one defenseless unsuspecting heart
438 · Aug 2018
Meditation On Being # 3
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Someone knocked on her door
Shaking her shawl as they thumped
And slowly she moved to see
Who could be so bothersome
Her iris inched across her window
Spotting a man bouncing upon his feet
Anxiousness infecting his face
Unable to keep his body in place
These two rhythmic observations stilled her
From moving towards the door
For what awaited her
Could not await itself
Pauper of Prose Oct 2018
A trembling leaf, lifted
By a passing truck
Where a Mother and daughter
Sing in vaulted out of tune tongues
Their hands salted in sweat
From a day of numbing unnamed work
A strand from each of their hair
Floats out of the window
One flying into the forest
To rest upon a fallen tree
That had seen enlightenment
In the darkest most obscure storm
The other strand floating
For many miles
Into a crowded city,
Sampling each sound
Gesture,
Pace,
Before landing atop a door handle
Savoring the touch
Of so many souls
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
Why do you persist?
Do you have any idea?
What I’d do
If passion pricked my chest
I’d move a million mountains
Still the seven seas
Drench the deathly deserts
Fling flames in frosted forests
Slay Hercules in his sleep
In order to cradle
You a little closer
And nip at your neck
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
Pleasures spiral and sprawl outward
Escaping the small chamber your parents regulated it to
Devouring dollops of your time
Until you become sick and restless
Fevers, blankets, and soup for recovery
Seeking madness once you’re rested and wrestling with boredom
This ruinous routine is never naturally rundown
Only perishing once true passion is found
Pauper of Prose Nov 2018
Amongst the broken ships
I see thy standing upon a sinking deck
No chains bound her in place
The glare of sunlight shields her face
Then swans and sparrows come in pairs
Settling upon her feet
Pecking and prodding with cooing sounds
Their music a masterful soothing score
That drowns out the brutish ocean’s roar
So that a new sea of melody floods the world
Then all these notes flow into the girl
Resting within her once rigid heart
Which has now become a sacred Ark
415 · Dec 2018
Soul Silencing the Mind
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
I stepped pass my reason
As it writhed on the ground
And from it oozed
All the past voices
Howling with so many how’s
How to Love, how to Live
How to Dress, how to Deceive
How to tailor the parts of me for Society
But as it sounded I wondered
Why such reason
Ever was ever part of me
For I heard not a single note of mine
Being played from it
413 · Jul 2018
Let Love Languish On You
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
How great Venus’s journey has been
How she’s dabbled in pureness and sin
And confused the concepts again and again
Doing bad in order to win
Doing good only for it to turn sour in the end
How tired Venus has grown of tripping over many rules
Let her rest upon your heart, to dream and drool
Don’t dare wake her slumber, for it will keep away fools
And to senseless burning passions, her soft breaths shall soothe
Eventually you’ll see her sleep enlivens, all that is you
So lay out a hammock, lay her on it, and swing it softly too
For as long as she slumbers upon thy, your feelings are true
Don't wrestle with love grown weary let it rest...
409 · Oct 2018
Tranquility Tamed
Pauper of Prose Oct 2018
In far flung fields
How your heightened heart
Beat’s as if it’ll never break
As if it barely bleed’s
And your laughter lifts
All souls that surround it
And immortal moments
Fly down to flirt
Within the spaces where
Your smile lingers
And your yawning
Calls out to the brittle breeze
Who sweeps forth
Cuddling and cradling
You in just the right jet stream
So that sleep may nestle
Upon your neck
Delivering desirous dreams
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
In the cold seconds of the dark night
When a message from another is frozen
Does not solitude answer?
Speeding back to reply
With a smooth and resounding silence
And most would place this
Next to the bins that they empty
But I see it
As unblemished beauty
One midnight rose
Whose pedals blend in
So that only sterling starlight
Can define its edges
401 · Aug 2018
Meditation On Being
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Rough cobblestone betrayed stealthy shoes
As she rushed inside from fierce winds that blew
Turning on the kettle with ease
Stirring inside her mug the tea leaves
Reading and waiting in relief from the cold
Seated, solitary, sound in her soul
Future’s Phantoms and Past’s Pesks
Were barred from activity duty, assigned to old desks
And she was contented with brilliant bows
Placed upon life’s box, wrapped in serenity’s gold
For she held what birthday’s usually see
Or what others place under a Christmas tree
398 · Dec 2018
Lay Me Just There
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
Carrying me upon the path
With cracked and calloused
Hands
I sing merrily
The least I can do
Yet I see the obstacles ahead
No need to struggle
With them
And
Me
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
I know you seek adventure don’t deny it
I see it lying in your eyes, the resting riot
Pupils pricked with perilous desire
Gaze situated on a blaze of blistering fire
I know you seek a way from the baskets of bores
That life delivers upon every person’s door
Hoping to enslave all who lift it, to routine and chore
So don’t grab at it, slowly walk away
Instead be a muse for a poor poet for a day
But what my lips will never betray
Is that if I make a masterpiece off of your life's lever
Then you'll be a muse who'll be mused about forever
But don't get your hopes up cause I'm rarely that clever
In a summer breeze I'll paint thy with my words if you'd only freeze..
388 · Dec 2018
Silent Civil Strife
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
She marched on herself
All battle lines and banners
Weapons reflecting one another
Horns howled
So that two sides packed into combat
Crushing, piercing blood splattered blows
Heaps of fallen bodies
And the mounting casualties
Castrated the confidence
Of the two sides of the girl
Who marched on herself
371 · Oct 2018
Such Zeal for the Zoo
Pauper of Prose Oct 2018
She lays along her porch
In clothes of comfort
Enclosed in comforts
A modest house
A ancestral skill
A family purring in peace
Yet I’d only want a piece
Of her
None of all that other
Such a western reality
Is rooted in my mentality
To see her behind a glass
As children gawk and gasp
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
With filthy fingers crusted in mud,
In ignorance we blissfully rub
Precious people and meaningful moments the wrong way
Until reflecting in our catalogue of memories one day
We see their true worth, the staggering figures of what they cost
And wisely lament on our poor loss
Pauper of Prose Jul 2018
I’m a refugee from the greatest part of me
I’m free range cattle that’s never truly free
I’m a poor scholar banned from the library
I’m the guide without a compass leading a company
I’m deaf but I heard all the things they said I’d be
I’m the one that didn’t vote but protested in the street
Yet even I realize there’s stranger things in reality
Slowly ******* perceived perfections....
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