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Kids order coffee.
They are extracted and
addicted before they can even see
social media profiles, supply and demand.

Kids use hair gel,
mascara; they know how to type
"You're nothing without a thick shell"
Facebook. iPhone. Google. Skype.

A joyous blame game
Getting them to raise themselves
and each other.
Where, oh where, is mother?

Didn't know they could?
Welcome to the era without
Childhood.
 Apr 2013 Tuesday Pixie
Nickols
"Go forth, little one." I said as I reached my hand up-towards the heavens. A single **** escapes my unclasped hands towards the sky, and then beyond. Soaring tactfully on the cool breeze.
"You're free at last." And at that very moment, the last of my ***** were given.

*Fin
© Victoria
 Apr 2013 Tuesday Pixie
Nickols
The cobwebs were hanging in the corners of the room.
While I'll confess I was lost within the masquerade,
of a dance full with the intent of death;
swirling till we sung with how to die alone.

In our ballroom, is what I need;
Step by step; unassumingly.
I'll wait for you there, locked in our rhythm.
I'll wait for you there, till time stands still.

And on death row, I will continue on with a smile.
My mask molding into my face-
Like the harlequin, dancing endless steps-
slipping down the path of the pagan.
I will pray to the god's and anyone listening.
To return me to my heavens.
To a place, I'll recall;
wasn't I just there---

In our ballroom, is what I need;
Step by step; unassumingly.
I'll wait for you there, locked in our rhythm.
I'll wait for you there, till time stands still.

And on I dance, until the days were done.
And then, there I sat with regrets...
Cobwebs hanging over shattered glass.
All the things I've never achieved...
For all I've done, for all I've been.
**In dreams until my death, I wonder on.
© Victoria
We sing the songs
we write
in our own choirs.

Faces of gods.
Bodies of goddesses.
&
Voices of angels.

We're all missing property
of Heaven.

Until we die.
&
Rise above this.
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