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My hands are getting shaky
My heart is beating fast
I really just want out of here
How long will this last

I hear some people laughing 
I bet it's right at me
I tried to look my very best
Is there something I can't see

My head is getting dizzy
My lip squeezed beneath my teeth
I wish I had my hoodie
Something to hide beneath

I heard somebody say my name
Oh please don't make me talk
Maybe they won't notice me
If away from them I walk

My hands are getting kinda shy
So I pull down my sleeves
My lungs are getting kinda stuffy
I really want to leave

They're looking in my direction
Guys, staring isn't nice
I know I'm not the prettiest
I cried about it last night 

I become a little more frantic 
I can't speak even if I try
I'd do anything to get away
Even if it means I have to die
When the beating sun can't warm my clammy skin.
I am losing this **** fight.
I see her smirk, she knows what I know.
She alone can make me right.
And though I reap just what I sow,
I never thought my chest could feel so tight.
All at once I hear her say, "You can give up, That's okay."
I finally look into her eyes,
She who brought me to my knees.
Suddenly the fight within me dies.
I sink beneath her comfort seas.
I have always been alive.
Before i was born, i was inside my parents.
A possibility, destined to become creation.
Before my parents, it was their parents.

I will always be alive.
When i die, i will decompose.
The rock cycle will rejuvinate the earth i occupy.
I will become one with the ever loving earth.

Matter is neither created nor destroyd.
Life is never taken nor given.
Why stay hurt, beat down, broken, when i can become something much bigger?
 Oct 2015 Tyler Phillips
EblenF
I was three
She decided that she'd rather be free
Or we
She decided that we'd rather be free
I was six and she'd get clean
For him
For us
For her?      
For her
That was the right answer
I was nine and a twitch was all she could muster
For me        
and them
and her
and us
I was twelve and I told her I'd rather be a gap and a mean.
A scrap of white where the crayon slipped over.          
For me
and only me
Maybe when I'm thirty
I'll have it down pat        
Maybe three year gaps and the voices between                
Will steal your soul and unravel your seams
Maybe I lied and maybe I didn't
and maybe
all I really want
is
a
dream
Wilson and Pilcer and Snack stood before the zoo elephant.

     Wilson said, "What is its name? Is it from Asia or Africa? Who feeds
it? Is it a he or a she? How old is it? Do they have twins? How much does
it cost to feed? How much does it weigh? If it dies, how much will another
one cost? If it dies, what will they use the bones, the fat, and the hide
for? What use is it besides to look at?"

     Pilcer didn't have any questions; he was murmering to himself, "It's
a house by itself, walls and windows, the ears came from tall cornfields,
by God; the architect of those legs was a workman, by God; he stands like
a bridge out across the deep water; the face is sad and the eyes are kind;
I know elephants are good to babies."

     Snack looked up and down and at last said to himself, "He's a tough
son-of-a-gun outside and I'll bet he's got a strong heart, I'll bet he's
strong as a copper-riveted boiler inside."

     They didn't put up any arguments.
     They didn't throw anything in each other's faces.
     Three men saw the elephant three ways
     And let it go at that.
     They didn't spoil a sunny Sunday afternoon;

"Sunday comes only once a week," they told each other.
I am the ******.
Singer of songs,
Dancer...
Softer than fluff of cotton...
Harder than dark earth
Roads beaten in the sun
By the bare feet of slaves...
Foam of teeth... breaking crash of laughter...
Red love of the blood of woman,
White love of the tumbling pickaninnies...
Lazy love of the banjo thrum...
Sweated and driven for the harvest-wage,
Loud laughter with hands like hams,
Fists toughened on the handles,
Smiling the slumber dreams of old jungles,
Crazy as the sun and dew and dripping, heaving life
     of the jungle,
Brooding and muttering with memories of shackles:
               I am the ******.
               Look at me.
               I am the ******.
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
     destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.

— The End —