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Fake hair
Fake name
Fake nails
Fake game

Fake smile
Fake tan
Fake brow
Fake can

Fake laugh
Fake lips
Fake brow
Fake ****

Buried deep
Under all this fake
Is a girl
With money t' make
  Dec 2014 Yasmin Greenfield
Sofia
Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.
This is the poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye,who died 10 years ago. It is written in 1932. I really like this poem,so I wanted to share it with you.
  Dec 2014 Yasmin Greenfield
WickedHope
I
h
a
v
e
f
e
e
l
i
n
g
s
that
form
thou
ghts,
that
form
words,
that          form
sente            ­     nces,
that                       form
rope,                         which
ties                               itself
into a                            noose.
Your                         ­     words
are also                    a rope,
that saves me from
drowning.
Sorry if you can't read it.
Kinda.
All the while, all the ****** while,
she stood there, waiting for me
to unlock the gate in the wall
But I was the fool, you see, 
to think I held the key
For all the while,
the prisoner
  was me, 
not she
  Dec 2014 Yasmin Greenfield
Devon Webb
You somehow
seamlessly exceed
my expectations
time
and time
again
In a quest to be different
They all became
the same
I refuse
The call of my muse.
I will not prolong
His song.
Send me another
Fantasy lover,
Topple him
From my heart’s throne,
And let me be alone.
The price of inspiration
Is too high.
I’ll stop writing
I will try.
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