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Poetry Fanatic Nov 2016
Why do I like the rain so much?
It may seem simple my darling one,
but it's not.
It's not for the smell,
The kisses in the rain,
playing in puddles,
or rainbows.
It's much more complex.
It's for the tears disguised as raindrops,
the layers of pain washing away,
the end of sorrow at the end of a long day,
and hope that one day it will all end.
The hope that it'll be over,
Sooner rather than later.
Poetry Fanatic Aug 2016
This I believe

           Life is too short to worry about all the small things that go wrong or the people that bug us. People tend to worry too much about finding a way to be entertained and tend to forget not to take life too seriously, because in the end none of us make it out alive anyway.  
           Let me paint you a picture of a little girl. She was born at 02:05 am on March 21st 2000. She had curly brown hair and beautiful blue eyes, and her mother was addicted to ****. The state of Colorado deemed her mother an unfit parent and she was placed into foster care when she was 12 hours old. The little girl's mother was in shock and got her act together and got her baby back after 1 year. Time passed and the little girl and her big brother were best friends. He shielded her from all the bad things going on at home. When the little girl was about to turn 3 her mother had 2 babies, they were twins. The new parents wouldn't stop yelling at each other so the little girl started crying, she got her first beating that night. She was ****** and on the floor in their little home and she couldn't move. All she could do was cry some more. Over the next two years she learned to fear police and thought that it was normal to be abused. She got beaten on the daily, verbally and emotionally abused, and cried herself to sleep every night. She was 5 years old when it finally happened. Someone had called the police to come save the three young kids. This was it, she had been in and out of foster care for 5 years, this was finally the last time. Her mother came into her room on the warpath and put the little girl's head through a glass display case, her brother and sister let out a blood chilling screams as they cried. The little girl woke up in a new foster home, without her siblings she felt like crying, but was scared she'd get hit again. The next morning she was told that she was in her new forever home. She was shocked. No more little brother and sister, no more drugs and abuse. She was finally safe.
           This story is the story of my life. I haven't told many people it, so thank you for listening. I believe in a life full of laughter. Laughter is the most powerful medicine. I cried enough tears for a lifetime as a child, so that only leaves me one option now, laugh. Laughter is powerful and everyone's laugh is unique. I'm going to end this with a question:
     Q: What has four wheels and flies?
                   A: A garbage truck.
This is not a poem, but it's my story.
Poetry Fanatic Aug 2016
This I believe

           Life is too short to worry about all the small things that go wrong or the people that bug us. People tend to worry too much about finding a way to be entertained and tend to forget not to take life too seriously, because in the end none of us make it out alive anyway.  
           Let me paint you a picture of a little girl. She was born at 02:05 am on March 21st 2000. She had curly brown hair and beautiful blue eyes, and her mother was addicted to ****. The state of Colorado deemed her mother an unfit parent and she was placed into foster care when she was 12 hours old. The little girl's mother was in shock and got her act together and got her baby back after 1 year. Time passed and the little girl and her big brother were best friends. He shielded her from all the bad things going on at home. When the little girl was about to turn 3 her mother had 2 babies, they were twins. The new parents wouldn't stop yelling at each other so the little girl started crying, she got her first beating that night. She was ****** and on the floor in their little home and she couldn't move. All she could do was cry some more. Over the next two years she learned to fear police and thought that it was normal to be abused. She got beaten on the daily, verbally and emotionally abused, and cried herself to sleep every night. She was 5 years old when it finally happened. Someone had called the police to come save the three young kids. This was it, she had been in and out of foster care for 5 years, this was finally the last time. Her mother came into her room on the warpath and put the little girl's head through a glass display case, her brother and sister let out a blood chilling screams as they cried. The little girl woke up in a new foster home, without her siblings she felt like crying, but was scared she'd get hit again. The next morning she was told that she was in her new forever home. She was shocked. No more little brother and sister, no more drugs and abuse. She was finally safe.
           This story is the story of my life. I haven't told many people it, so thank you for listening. I believe in a life full of laughter. Laughter is the most powerful medicine. I cried enough tears for a lifetime as a child, so that only leaves me one option now, laugh. Laughter is powerful and everyone's laugh is unique. I'm going to end this with a question:
     Q: What has four wheels and flies?
                   A: A garbage truck.
This is not a poem, but it's my story.
Poetry Fanatic Aug 2016
I really must say,
life is a mess.
People see one another,
and jokingly threaten death.
"I'm gonna **** you!" She smiles
"Not if I get you first,"he grins back.
They mean well.
But the sad truth is,
when I look in the mirrior...
I say the same thing.
"I'm gonna **** you!"
But it's no joke.
Poetry Fanatic Aug 2016
She was a rainbow,
But he was color blind.
  Jul 2016 Poetry Fanatic
Wordfreak
Ring a-round the rosie,
Pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down...

Stacks of swollen bodies,
Screams of sick and dying,
Burning! Burning!
We've all been ******.

Forty days of pouring,
The lost which we are mourning,
Sinking! Sinking!
We all shall drown...

My rhyming now is finished,
Your heart now feels diminished,
Sickened! Disgusted!
Flee from my words.
Poetry Fanatic Jul 2016
Maybe we'll meet again,
When we are slightly older
and our minds less hectic,
And I'll be right for you,
And you'll be right for me.
But right now,
I am chaos to your thoughts,
And you are poison to my heart.
This is my last poem for a while. I have decided.
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