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When a flower blooms in the sun,
It will grow with beauty and joy,
Living a short and merry life.
But when a flower blooms in the dark,
It grows in a twisted and tormented shape,
It's pain and anger digging its roots deep,
And it's life will last ages.
Our children are our flowers,
And we must bring them the sun.
Even though my sun was abandoned for another blossom,
I still remember its loving energy.
I have a new sun now,
Brighter and warmer than my last.
I'm still in the dark,
But the light beacons me with the approaching day.
Soon it's my turn to bring the light on my own garden,
But first I must weather the night.
You, who ignores his own kids.
You, who exudes hate like the sun gives out light.
You, their father, you who has made that title empty.
You, you who don't give us the respect and love we deserve,
You who violently ignore the fact that you have lost ours,
You who was once someone worth a damb,
Who is now nothing more than a fat pig.
You who has closed his eyes, ears, and heart to your entire family.
You who wouldn't even care, not even at my funeral.
You who abandoned me.
You, who finally deserves the title of my father.
Like my first father, the one who created me,
You don't care for me or my kin, we are invisible in your eyes.
You like my second father, who hates me and would love for me to stop existing.
You, who now inherits the accursed title,
You, my father.
Put all your eggs in one basket,
You should count your chickens before they hatch.
You should cut off your arm in a public display,
And announce "Tis' but a scratch"!

Put your hand in boiling hot water,
Wash your car on a rainy day.
Think you could stop a boat with only your foot,
Put your fist in your mouth, don't delay!
do not listen to poem.
When summers wind blows away winters frozen fingers,
Away, away I fly.
Back to my home where my life began,
Away, away I fly.
All the while my heart pangs for you,
Away, away I fly.
I look forward to coming back home to you,
As away, away I fly
A letter to my love, letting her know even while I'm gone I'll always be here for her. I love you kitten
Anger is like fire,
Capable of burning and destroying all in its path.
It can be bottled,
And it's flames will grow cold.
Bottled anger can shatter,
Often hurting it's holder more than it's target.
Take my spirit and my dreams you take
push me down and my dreams you make
connection, such a kind that cant break
inception, such a dream you cant wake
the suspense, such emotion, cant blink
inventive, I'd be dead if I cant think
crazy, don't push me, I'm on d brink
spiritual to physical I found the link
my mind is motivated but my feelings are weak
room so tight, the tension this* thick
fills your mind with pressure so quick
a bag of tricks for you for each week
and am getting heavier, pray I dont sink
the devil at the door hole, pray he dont peek
and I'll keep praying until the world shrinks
and falls in Your hands and just remains meek
and how can I die? there's no bucket to kick
if He made me that way, then am happy ama freak
and when I do wat I do, I dont do it cos I can
I do it cos I know that He made me who I am
This is a poem from a high school student to the high school teachers,
And those I'm referring to better know who they are.

To the school teachers who think there cheerleaders,
Grow the hell up.

To the teachers who think being our friend is more important than teaching a lesson,
Grow the hell up.

To the over obsessive fools who rearrange the school constantly,
Wisen the hell up.

To the ******* who spends more than 75% of our budget on sports,
Wisen the hell up.

To the the teachers who force students to act like their children,
Get a ******* life.

To the fools who spend their time on Instagram and Twitter to much,
Get a ******* life.

To the schools that don't know their priorities,
Get your *** in gear.

To the teachers who still are kids, for the last time
GROW THE HELL UP.
A proof of life,
Is the pain I feel.
A proof of life,
Are the forces that make me kneel.

A proof of life,
Is the blood I bleed.
A proof of life,
Is the heart I need.

A proof of life,
In the eyes I see.
A proof of life,
Is inside of me.
Americas favorite thing is sports,
We call our smartest people dorks,
You get paid more to throw a ball,
Than you are to work at all.
Our economy is a failing state,
And what makes me really irate,
Is we spend all our money on sports.
The thing at the back of everyone's minds is,
"I'm going to die!"
I'm the ******* that's yelling behind them,
"Your going to be pacakes!"
Totally done this
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